m 


mi  KEYS  of 

THE  CITY 


r 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


presented  to  the 
UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 

by 

Tom  Ham 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 


THE 
KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 


BY 
OSCAR  GRAEVE 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1916 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 

Publithed,  September,  1916 


To 
M.  E.  G. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 
PAET  I 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

CHAPTEE  I 

UNTIL  David  Wells  was  twelve  years  he  had 
scarcely  a  playfellow.  A  gentle  and  imag- 
inative boy,  he  did  not  possess  those  qualities 
which  command  the  friendship  of  the  youth  of  his 
own  generation,  no  matter  how  keenly  he  longed 
for  it.  But  aside  from  this  his  isolation  was  no 
phenomenon.  It  is  easily  explained. 

Along  the  Shore  Road  of  that  suburb  of  Brook- 
lyn well  named  Bay  Ridge,  perched  high  on  the 
cliff  overlooking  New  York  harbor,  were  many 
large  and  beautiful  homes,  old  houses  for  the 
greater  part,  with  wide  lawns  and  verandas  with 
fine  Colonial  pillars  but,  beneath  the  cliff,  for  many 
a  mile,  there  was  only  the  little  red  house  where 
David  lived  with  his  father  and  mother.  And  his 
father  made  his  living  by  fishing  and  renting  out 
boats,  which  was  more  than  ample  reason  why  the 
mothers  of  the  Shore  Road  residences  should  for- 
bid their  offspring  to  play  with  the  fisherman's 
boy.  Occasionally  the  lure  of  the  rowboats  and 
the  gray  old  wharf  drew  these  children  down  de- 

3 


4  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

spite  their  parents '  commands,  but  with  the  cruel 
and  unvarnished  snobbery  of  childhood  they  let 
David  see  plainly  enough  that  they  were  conde- 
scending, and  unless  he  was  hard  pressed  by  lone- 
liness he  would  have  none  of  them.  He  had  his 
pride  as  well  as  they. 

Then  Nora  Davenport  came  down  to  the  Bay 
Ridge  shore  for  the  summer  with  her  father  and 
mother  and  a  certain  Colonel  Craig,  and  at  this 
household,  especially  at  a  peculiar  air  of  bravado 
which  Mrs.  Davenport  flaunted  before  them,  the 
neighboring  ladies  suspected  the  worst,  withdrew 
their  skirts,  and  walked  by  the  house,  which  the 
Davenports  rented,  with  averted  glances.  Ac- 
cordingly little  Nora  Davenport  was  as  severely 
shunned  as  David ;  in  the  most  natural  way  in  the 
world  the  two  detached  little  bodies  drifted  to- 
gether and  became  dear  friends. 

It  was  one  afternoon  in  June  that  they  first  fell 
into  companionship, 

David  had  not  yet  emerged  from  that  period  in 
which  digging  in  the  sand  and  erecting  all  sorts 
of  forts  and  battlements  and  castles  was  an  en- 
grossing pastime.  He  was  delving  deep  into  a 
pool  when  Nora,  sauntering  aimlessly  along  the 
beach,  encountered  him — and  halted. 

"What  is  it — a  tunnel?"  she  asked  after  three 
minutes  of  silent  inspection. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  5 

The  boy  had  been  acutely  aware  of  her-  pres- 
ence, even  of  her  approach,  but  he  said  nothing, 
only  dug  the  more  furiously  until  she  made  the 
advance.  Then  he  looked  up  eagerly  enough. 
"No,  it  's  not  a  tunnel." 

"Is  it  just  a  plain  pool?" 

"No,  it 's  an  aquarium.  When  the  tide  comes 
in  and  goes  out  again  I  expect  there  '11  be  a  lot  of 
killies  in  it  and  maybe  a  crab." 

"What  are  killies?" 

"You  know— little  fish." 

"Minnows?" 

"Some  people  call  'em  that." 

She  waited  a  minute.  "You  can  find  them  in 
all  the  old  pools  around  here  without  digging  new 
ones. ' ' 

"Yes,  but  it 's  more  fun  to  dig  your  own  pool. 
Then  you  feel  as  if  you  owned  it. ' ' 

She  took  a  step  forward,  and  David  was  able 
to  see  her  perfectly  without  betraying  his  interest 
too  obviously.  He  saw  at  once,  of  course,  that  she 
was  a  stranger,  and  he  appreciated  in  a  vague 
way  that  she  was  expensively  dressed.  Her 
short,  white  skirt  stuck  out  primly  starched  and 
her  thin,  straight,  black  legs  were  sheathed  in 
stockings  free  from  the  darned  patches  which  in- 
variably disfigured  his,  while  on  her  small  feet 
were  low,  black  shiny  shoes  with  silver  buckles. 


6  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Suddenly  in  the  midst  of  his  inspection  she  flopped 
down  beside  him  and  sat  with  her  legs  crossed. 
It  was  done  with  so  enchanting  a  disregard  of  the 
effect  of  wet  stones  and  sand  upon  white  linen 
that  it  quite  won  David's  heart. 

"What  do  you  do  with  the  minnows  and  crabs 
when  you  catch  them?"  she  asked,  bending  over 
to  peer  into  the  pool,  her  straight  little  nose 
wrinkled  with  the  intensity  of  her  inspection,  her 
wide  black  sailor  hat  pushed  so  far  back  upon  her 
dark  brown  hair  that  it  resembled  a  somber 
halo. 

He  gave  her  a  quick  glance,  wondering  if  she 
were  worthy  of  his  confidence,  and  finally  trusted 
her  with  a  stammering  and  red-faced,  "Oh,  I — I 
make  believe.'* 

"Fairy  stories  and  all  that?" 

"No,  not  fairy  stories.  I  've  outgrown  them, 
but  stories  about  heroes  and  princesses  and 
kings. ' ' 

"Those  are  fairy  stories." 

' '  No,  they  're  not, ' '  he  exclaimed,  anxiously  try- 
ing to  make  the  subtle  difference  clear;  "there  'a 
no  witches  or  fairies  in  'em;  just  people  like  you 
and  me,  people  that  could  be  real,  only  they  're  of 
noble  blood  and  do  wonderful  things. ' ' 

"I  believe  in  fairy  stories,"  she  said;  but  not 
to  be  outdone  by  him  in  knowledge,  added  quickly : 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  7 

"Of  course,  I  don't  really,  truly  believe  in  them. 
I  just  make  believe  I  believe  in  them.  It 's  much 
nicer. ' ' 

There  fell  a  little  silence  upon  them,  and  the 
girl  picked  up  a  round  white  stone  and  threw  it 
far  so  that  it  fell  into  the  open  water  beyond  the 
pools  and  the  rocks.  The  way  she  did  it  called 
forth  David's  admiration  and  he  felt  an  over- 
whelming desire  to  know  more  about  her. 
' '  What 's  your  name  1 "  he  asked. 

"Nora  Davenport.  I  've  only  come  down  to 
Bay  Ridge  for  the  summer.  We  live  in  New 
York  in  the  winter,  but  every  summer  we  go  away 
somewhere  near  enough  to  the  city  for  my  father 
and  Colonel  Craig  to  go  there  every  day." 

"Who  's  Colonel  Craig?" 

* '  Oh,  he  's  a  sort  of  uncle,  I  guess.  He  always 
lives  with  us." 

Then  David  told  her  his  name  and  who  he  was, 
fearful  that  when  she  heard  she  would  declare,  as 
so  many  others  had  done,  that  she  would  not  be 
allowed  to  play  with  him.  She  did  nothing  of 
the  kind,  however,  but  merely  sat  and  looked  at 
him  with  her  wide,  gray  eyes.  So  the  two  chil- 
dren studied  each  other,  half-hesitant,  half-bold, 
with  beating  hearts,  wondering,  as  all  of  us  do  at 
times,  whether  here  at  last  was  the  true  comrade 
to  whom  we  can  tell  everything,  before  whom  we 


8  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

can  pour  out  our  innermost  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, knowing  that  they  shall  receive  not  ridicule 
but  sympathy,  not  criticism  but  understanding. 
They  were  very  much  interested  in  each  other, 
but  they  took  the  most  elaborate  precautions  to 
hide  their  interest.  When  for  the  second  or  third 
time  their  eyes  met  questioningly,  they  were  over- 
come with  confusion,  and  they  turned  their  gaze 
to  the  bay  and  the  little  waves  which  spread  their 
fringed  and  rounded  edges  like  soft  filmy  lace 
upon  the  sand. 

The  June  afternoon  hung  between  five  and  six. 
It  was  a  very  golden  afternoon.  A  fine  and  won- 
derfully transparent  golden  curtain  had  de- 
scended from  heaven,  or  rather  it  was  as  if  some 
one  had  scattered  tiny  golden  flakes  like  a  light 
snowstorm  turned  golden,  over  the  trees  and  the 
grass  and  the  water.  Even  the  blue  sky  looked 
golden,  a  black  bird  hung  aloft  in  its  golden  bowl, 
and  there  was  a  golden  haze  in  the  air.  The 
green  and  brown  shores  of  Staten  Island,  a  full 
mile  across  the  bay,  appeared  startlingly  near;  a 
white  spire  rising  from  among  pale  green  trees 
shone  against  the  blue  sky.  And  ships  with  sails 
vividly  white  crept  over  the  water  without  creat- 
ing a  ripple,  as  if  drawn  by  invisible  wires.  It 
was  all  very  still,  just  the  little  waves  met  and 
frothed,  whispered  and  parted. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  9 

At  last  David  jumped  to  his  feet  with:  "-Have 
you  seen  the  City  from  here?" 

"The  City!"  % 

"Yes.  If  you  climb  out  on  those  rocks,  from 
the  farthest  one,  that  great  big  black  one,  you 
can  see  New  York.  I  often  climb  out  there  to 
see  it.  But  you  '11  have  to  be  careful  because  the 
rocks  are  wet  and  covered  with  seaweed — the 
water  's  deep  all  around  there.  But  I  '11  help 
you. ' ' 

She  threw  back  the  heavy  strands  of  her  hair 
with  an  impatient  hand,  "Let 's  race  down,"  she 
suggested,  flashing  him  a  challenging  glance, 
which  he  was  to  come  to  recognize  as  characteristic 
of  her. 

She  saw  that  he  was  ready  and  her  slender  body 
straightened  and  was  off  with  the  gliding  smooth- 
ness of  a  bird's  flight.  It  was  all  David  could  do 
to  keep  up  with  her  and  it  was  she  who  actually 
reached  the  rocks  first.  She  knew  by  his  expres- 
sion that  he  was  piqued,  so  she  put  her  hand  on 
his  shoulder  and  said,  breathless  and  laughing, 
"Don't  be  angry  because  I  won.  I  know  it  's 
made  you  mad  just  because  I  'm  a  girl.  Think  of 
me  as  a  boy,  I  don't  want  any  odds.  If  you  do 
that  we  '11  get  along  lots  better." 

"I  '11  help  you  over  the  rocks."  He  extended 
his  hand,  his  touch  of  vexation  vanished. 


10  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"No,  I  don't  want  your  help."  Nora  was  al- 
ready on  the  third  rock,  balancing  for  the  fourth. 

* '  The  water  's  deep. ' ' 

"I  can  swim,"  she  threw  back  over  her  shoul- 
der. 

"Bet  I  can  beat  you  swimming." 

"Bet  you  can't!" 

"We  '11  see  some  day." 

They  reached  the  last  rock  and  gave  their  atten- 
tion to  the  City.  From  the  beach  it  could  not  be 
seen  as  the  curving  shore  hid  it  from  view,  but 
from  here  it  loomed  large  in  the  distance,  stately 
and  impressive,  yet  shadowy  and  mysterious,  like 
the  Phantom  City  of  a  dream.  Although  many 
of  the  highest  buildings  were  not  yet  erected  and 
the  kings  of  them  all  were  not  to  rise  for  many 
a  year,  the  pinnacles  of  the  City  already  leapt  to 
meet  the  low  evening  sl$y  which  hung  around 
them  like  violet  and  pink  veils. 

David  sat  down  on  the  rock  and  rested  his  chin 
on  his  hanH,  gazing  at  the  City,  silent  so  long 
that  Nora  asked  impatiently,  "What  are  you 
thinking  about!" 

"I  'm  thinking  it 's  like  Far  Cathay." 

"What  's  Far  Cathay?" 

* '  I  don 't  know.    I  read  it  somewhere. ' ' 

"Have  you  ever  been  to  the  City?" 

He  shook  his  head.    "Not  to'New  York.    I've 


THE  KEYS  OP  THE  CITY  11 

been  to  Brooklyn  quite  often.  Mother  takes  me 
about  twice  a  month  when  |he  goes  to  see  ^ier  law- 
yer. But  never  to  the  City  we  see  from  here. ' ' 

"You  '11  go  some  day?" 

He  did  not  reply  immediately,  but  arose  and 
stood  facing  the  City,  gazing  at  it  eagerly,  in- 
tently, with  longing  and  yet  with  a  little  defiance. 
* '  Yes,  I  '11  go.  I  often  dream  of  going.  Oh,  I 
want  to  go.  ...  I  want  to  be  a  man,  there  in 
the  City,  ^rking  away  for  something.  And  yet 
it 's  so  big,  so  looking  as  if  it  did  n't  care !  But  I 
want  to  go ;  I  'm  not  afraid  of  it." 

Nora  considered  his  words,  a  crease  between  her 
frowning  little  eyebrows.  She  was  sitting  with 
one  leg  drawn  up  and  her  hands  slightly  grimy 
from  seaweed  and  sand,  clasping  her  knee.  Some- 
thing in  what  David  had  said  carried  its  thrill  to 
her.  ' '  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  a  man ! ' '  she  exclaimed 
savagely. 

David  dropped  beside  her;  he  had  appeared 
older  standing,  facing  the  City,  but  he  was  quite 
boyish  and  commonplace  again.  "Why?"  te 
asked  absently,  seeing  how  near  he  could  get  his 
foot  to  the  water  without  actually  wetting  it. 

"Well,  it  seems  to  me  all  that  a  girl  can  make 
believe  is  she  's  going  to  be  married  some  day 
and  have  a  lot  of  children.  I  don't  like  to  make 
believe  that." 


12  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"What  do  you  make  believe  then?" 

"Oh,  I  pretend  that  I  'm  sailing  somewhere 
with  a  pirate  crew,  and  sometimes  I  'm  the  cap- 
tain and,  of  course,  I  'm  a  man  then,  and  some- 
times I  pretend  I  'm  a  beautiful  white  captive 
stolen  from  the  Morocco  coast  and,  of  course,  then 
I  'm  a  woman." 

David  was  deeply  interested;  here  was  a  girl 
with  an  imagination  he  immediately  acknowledged 
the  peer  of  his  own.  "What  do  the  pirates  do  to 
the  beautiful  white  captive  f ' ' 

"They  all  fall  in  love  with  me  and  then  they  let 
me  go  free." 

"Oh,  go  on,  I  bet  they  wouldn't.  The  captain 
would  take  you  to  his  hut  on  a  desert  isle  and  from 
there  you  'd  be  rescued  after  many  years  by  an 
English  nobleman  and — " 

"No,  I  wouldn't  at  all,"  interrupted  Nora,  sur- 
prised and  displeased  at  his  temerity  in  tampering 
with  her  story;  "I  wouldn't  do  that  at  all." 

"What  would  you  do!" 

"I  don't  know.  I  know  when  I  'm  really  pre- 
tending, but  I  can't  pretend  when  you  keep  on 
spoiling  things. ' ' 

The  afternoon  was  fading;  gray  and  somber 
violet  were  taking  the  place  of  gold.  Nora 
scrambled  to  her  feet  and  cried,  "Lord,  I  bet  it 's 
late.  I  have  to  go  home  to  dinner.  If  I  'm  late  I 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  13 

have  to  eat  in  the  kitchen;  although  I  'd  just  as 
lief  only  they  leave  out  the  peppermints  at  the 
end  of  the  dinner  in  the  kitchen. ' ' 

1  'I  have  to  go  home,  too,'*  said  David. 
"  There  's  mother  now.  See  her  out  on  the  boat 
landing?  She  's  looking  around.  She  don't  see 
me."  He  called  and  waved  his  hand  and  the 
woman,  when  she  saw  he  was  coming,  waved  in  re- 
ply and,  turning,  disappeared  into  the  little  red 
house. 

The  children  clambered  back  over  the  rocks. 
David  offered  his  hand,  but  Nora  firmly  refused  it 
and  as  a  consequence,  slipped  and  almost  fell. 

'  *  I  told  you  you  'd  better  let  me  help  you, ' '  cried 
David  exultantly. 

"I  didn't  fall,  did  I?"  retorted  Nora  tartly. 

"You  almost  did." 

"Well,  what  you  almost  do  doesn't  count." 

When,  at  last,  they  stood  firmly  on  the  sandy 
beach,  there  was  an  awkward  pause. 

"I  '11  see  you  to-morrow,"  Nora  said  presently, 
kicking  at  a  smooth  white  log  drifted  in  from  the 
sea. 

David's  hands  were  buried  in  his  pockets  and  his 
feet  were  firmly  planted  far  apart  as  he  gazed  at 
her  and  said:  "Perhaps  you  'd  rather  play  with 
some  of  the  others.  If  you  would  you  're  welcome 
to,  but  I  'd  rather  know  now."  He  said  it  defi- 


14  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

antly,  but  he  was  glad  she  could  not  see  the  anx- 
iety with  which  he  awaited  her  answer. 

"Oh,  they  won't  play  with  me.  I  don't  know 
why,"  she  said,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone  as  if  long 
since  she  had  given  up  the  problem  as  insolvable, 
"so  let 's  just  us  two  be  friends.  I  'd  rather  have 
a  boy  for  a  friend.  Girls  are  so  silly. ' ' 

"All  right,"  he  replied  seriously;  but  his  heart 
sang  joyously.  And  he  would  have  liked  to  have 
said  more,  to  assure  her  of  his  devotion  and  humil- 
ity, but  he  could  find  no  words  to  express  them. 

He  watched  her  as  she  ran  down  the  beach  and 
up  the  cliff,  swinging  her  large  sailor  hat  as  she 
ran.  At  the  top  of  the  cliff  she  turned  and  called, 
but  he  could  not  understand  what  she  said.  So  he 
simply  waved.  Then  he  went  home  to  his  supper, 
aglow  with  happiness  and  a  vibrant  excitement. 


CHAPTER  II 

THEOUGH  David's  earliest  memories  ran 
the  murmur  of  waters.  It  was  like  the  ac- 
companiment of  an  old  and  plaintive  song.  Years 
afterward,  when  life  had  buffeted  and  bruised  and 
taken  its  toll  of  him,  by  merely  closing  his  eyes  he 
could  hear  the  murmur  of  waters  outside  the  win- 
dow of  the  little  white  room  in  which  he  was  born. 
And  the  room  itself  he  could  see  distinctly  in  its 
every  detail.  His  earliest  remembrance  was  of  a 
morning  when  he  had  lifted  himself  on  an  elbow 
and  gazed  out  the  small  dormer  window  from 
whose  sill  Virginia  creeper  and  honeysuckle  waved 
their  leaves  in  the  soft  wind.  For  on  that  morn- 
ing, for  the  first  time,  he  realized  what  Beauty  is. 
His  white  cot  had  a  patchwork  quilt;  bright 
green  and  red  were  its  predominating  colors,  al- 
though a  salmon  patch  with  a  pale  blue  flower  in  its 
center  was  prominent.  His  mother  had  made  the 
quilt  before  he  was  born,  here  in  the  quiet  house, 
awaiting  his  coming.  .  .  .  Then  there  was  a  white 
washstand  with  red  banded  towels  hanging  on  a 
rack  beside  it;  an  old  humpbacked  bureau  with  a 
round  mirror  which  caught  and  threw  back  the 

15 


16  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

morning  sunlight;  one  or  two  low  chairs  with 
thatched  seats,  and  a  rag  carpet  on  the  floor. 

But  better  than  the  room  he  remembered  the 
view  from  the  window.  Out  there  the  waters  con- 
tinuously whispered  so  that  he  was  conscious  of 
their  voices  even  in  his  sleep.  A  short,  square- 
nosed  dock  pushed  its  way  into  the  protesting 
ripples,  and  moored  to  it  the  flotilla  of  rowboats 
ceaselessly  rocked.  And  whenever  David  in  later 
years  thought  of  the  view  from  his  window  spring 
was  upon  it,  glorifying  it ;  the  syringa  bushes  and 
strawberry  shrubs  were  always  in  bloom,  sending 
up  their  heavy  scent ;  the  slopes  of  the  cliff  shone  in 
the  sun  and  were  pied  with  yellow  and  white 
flowers ;  the  beach  was  silver  and  on  the  beach  the 
blue  water,  the  wonderful  blue  water,  tossed  its 
foam. 

David's  was  the  only  room  upstairs  in  that  little 
red  house  so  closely  tucked  beneath  the  cliff  that 
it  seemed  to  carry  half  its  weight  on  its  sturdy 
roof.  Downstairs  it  spread  itself  out  as  a  man 
with  a  pack  on  his  back  spreads  his  feet  to  get  a 
firm  foundation.  There  was  the  kitchen  where  the 
meals  were  eaten  as  well  as  cooked,  the  big  square 
room  in  which  his  mother  and  father  slept,  and  the 
parlor  which  was  held  sacred  to  Sunday  and  at 
best  only  used  in  winter  when  David's  mother  sat 
there  in  the  late  afternoon  in  a  rocker  by  the  win- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  17 

dow  reading  the  Bible  or  the  Pilgrim's  Progress. 
In  summer  she  sat  outside  on  the  veranda  with  the 
book  lying  open  on  her  lap  and  her  eyes  turned  to- 
ward the  sea,  as  if  she  expected  some  one  who 
never  came. 

David  never  understood  his  mother;  he  stood 
very  much  in  awe  of  her  even  when  he  was  the 
smallest  of  toddlers ;  she  was  so  silent,  so  inflexible, 
and  she  went  about  her  household  duties  with  lips 
so  tightly  pressed  together,  with  such  a  rigid  and 
bitterly  uncomplaining  air. 

But  towards  his  father  his  feelings  were  quite 
different.  He  understood  him  perfectly  and  he 
loved  him  very  much.  He  was  ridiculously  proud 
of  his  father 's  strength.  Often  he  had  watched  ad- 
miringly while  his  father  lifted  one  of  the  heavy 
rowboats  over  his  head  and  carried  it,  with  steady, 
unwavering  steps  up  above  high-water  mark  to  be 
painted  or  overhauled. 

Mr.  Wells  often  took  David  with  him  on  his  fish- 
ing trips.  Occasionally  they  went  as  far  as  the 
ocean  side  of  Staten  Island  in  quest  of  bluefish  or 
weak  fish.  Once  or  twice,  to  David's  delight,  they 
spent  the  night  at  an  old  weather-beaten  inn  on  the 
south  shore  of  the  island,  built  before  the  Eevolu- 
tion,  full  of  the  most  mysterious  passages  and 
corners.  Here  with  David  safely  tucked  in  bed 
John  Wells  descended  to  the  bar.  But  long  before 


18  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

David  fell  asleep,  he  would  hear  his  father 's  deep 
voice  roaring  out  wild  songs  of  the  sea  with  a 
chorus  of  his  cronies  taking  up  the  refrain  at  the 
end  of  each  verse.  Thrilling  stuff  for  the  small 
boy  upstairs,  hugging  the  musty-smelling  bed  cov- 
ers to  his  chin,  with  mad  fancies  of  pirates  and  sea 
robbers  careening  through  his  mind.  .  .  . 

One  thing  which  David  noticed  and  which  his 
parents  never  imagined  he  noticed,  was  the  way 
in  which  his  father  attempted  to  be  affectionate 
with  his  mother,  to  secure  her  hand,  to  put  his  arm 
around  her  waist,  to  touch  the  back  of  her  neck 
with  his  lips  as  she  stood  gazing  out  the  window 
with  that  expectant  look  in  her  eyes.  And  David 
noticed  his  mother  always  discouraged  these  at- 
tempts, and  he  grew  very  sorry  for  the  big  man 
who  was  his  father.  But  he  knew  quite  well  that 
he  must  never  show  his  sympathy  nor  must  he  even 
betray  his  intense  interest  in  these  things. 

No  friends  ever  came  to  the  little  red  house. 
The  only  visitors  were  people  to  inquire  whether 
Mr.  Wells  could  supply  them  with  some  extra  nice 
porgies  on  Friday  or  a  fine  mess  of  eels  on  Mon- 
day. Then,  of  course,  on  Saturday  afternoons  and 
all  day  Sunday  in  bright  mild  weather  there  was 
an  endless  stream  of  men,  women,  and  children  who 
came  to  hire  boats :  young  men  with  their  chatter- 
ing, beribboned  sweethearts;  family  parties  of 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  19 

Germans ;  men  in  groups  of  two  or  three  equipped 
with  fishing  tackle  and  smelling  most  unpleasantly 
of  whisky. 

For  many  years  David's  only  playmate  was  the 
beach  and  its  myriad  treasures — shells  and  the 
driftwood,  pools  and  their  inhabitants,  which  so 
conveniently  lent  themselves  to  fable  and  story, 
and  the  hundreds  of  strange  things  which  the  sea 
threw  up.  Later  there  were  Books !  They  opened 
a  world  of  romance.  There  was  a  public  library  in 
Bay  Eidge — not  then  the  red  and  white  brick  Car- 
negie Library  which  was  to  supplant  it,  but  an 
humble  library  which  found  shelter  in  a  corner  of 
the  huge  wooden  building  called  the  Atheneum 
where  church  concerts  and  entertainments  were 
given.  To  this  library  David  made  pilgrimage  at 
least  thrice  a  week.  At  first  fairy  stories  and  then, 
as  soon  as  the  librarian  permitted,  books  of  the  sea 
and  adventure  by  Captain  Marryatt,  Mr.  Henty, 
and  their  fellows.  A  year  or  two  after  he  dis- 
covered Dickens  and  Scott  and,  of  course,  Jules 
Verne. 

So  his  life  was  lived  mostly  alone  until  into  it 
swept  Nora  Davenport,  very  real,  very  tangible, 
and  inexpressibly  adorable. 


CHAPTER  in 

HOW  that  summer  sped !  It  was  a  summer  of 
perpetual  silver  mornings  and  golden  after- 
noons that,  as  if,  under  the  wand  of  an  enchanter, 
melted  one  into  another  and  swept  on  like  a  stream. 

Nora  and  David  were  always  together,  swim- 
ming together,  running  down  the  beach  together, 
evolving  innumerable  stories  together — and  gener- 
ally disputing  their  ending.  Nora  always  insisted 
upon  an  unhappy  ending —  "Because  things  al- 
ways end  unhappily  really,"  she  said,  her  dark 
eyes  glowing  with  intensity ;  while  David  held  out 
for  the  more  conventional  happy-ever-afterward 
ending.  "Because,"  he  said,  with  a  solemn  shake 
of  his  head,  "that  's  as  it  ought  to  be." 

Quite  early  in  the  summer  Pip  appeared  on  the 
scene.  Pip  was  a  small  black  and  brown  dog  with 
tremendously  bowed  front  legs  and  an  amiable  and 
cock-sure-of-his-welcome  expression,  despite  two 
protuberant  and  particularly  fierce  looking  front 
teeth.  He  also  boasted  an  abbreviated  tail  that 
did  a  terrific  amount  of  wagging.  He  was  prob- 
ably some  breed  of  bulldog  and  when  Colonel  Craig 

20 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  21 

presented  him  to  Mrs.  Davenport  who  in  turn 
passed  him  on  to  her  small  daughter,  it  was  claimed 
that  he  had  a  most  remarkable  pedigree.  But  al- 
though Pip  looked  like  a  bloated  prize-fighter  who 
had  won  every  contest  in  which  he  had  figured,  he 
was  extremely  genial  and  friendly.  He  was  not 
proud.  He  soon  became  passionately  devoted  to 
Nora  who  really  very  much  spoiled  him,  picking 
him  up  in  her  arms  and  fondling  him  the  while  he 
gazed  up  into  her  face  and  panted,  with  his  red 
curling  tongue  hanging  out  of  his  mouth  and  his 
ridiculous  tail  doing  its  best  to  beat  a  brisk  tattoo 
against  her  blue  serge  skirt. 

Nora  lavished  on  him  all  the  endearing  names 
she  could  invent,  and  with  Nora  that  was  a  very 
great  number.  David  pretended  to  be  disgusted 
at  this  until  Nora  was  out  of  sight  and  Pip  left 
in  his  charge  when  he  was  hardly  better  than 
she. 

Pip  followed  them  everywhere.  He  was  even 
with  them  on  the  raft.  They  built  it  behind  a 
weather-blackened  shed  that  had  begun  its  career 
as  a  boathouse,  but  was  now  used  as  a  bathhouse 
by  the  Dodges  who  owned  it.  The  children  took 
extraordinary  precautions  to  prevent  discovery, 
for  they  did  not  want  to  be  interfered  with  nor 
their  purpose  divined.  Secrecy  increased  the  in- 
terest of  their  labors  a  hundredfold.  It  eventually 


22  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

turned  out  to  be  a  staunch  and  seaworthy  craft. 
Which  was  fortunate. 

David's  part  was  to  haul  the  logs  up  the  beach 
and  behind  the  shed.  (Nora  lent  a  hand  with  the 
larger  ones.)  And  then  Nora  and  he  took  turns 
in  sawing  and  hammering,  while  Pip  lay  out  in  the 
sun,  blinking  and  ready  to  sound  the  alarm  if 
any  passers-by  appeared. 

Nora  discovered  a  length  of  wire  rope  in  the 
tool  house  of  her  garden  and  that  virtually  solved 
the  problem  of  holding  the  raft  together.  But 
when,  after  six  days'  constant  labor,  it  was  fin- 
ished, they  found  it  so  heavy  they  could  not  move 
it.  It  could  not  be  budged  an  inch. 

"We  should  have  built  it  down  by  the  water!" 
exclaimed  Nora,  giving  the  mass  of  logs  a  last  in- 
effectual tug,  concluding  with  an  exasperated  kick, 
and  then  sitting  down  on  it  disgustedly  close  to 
tears. 

"But  everybody  would  have  known,"  said 
David. 

"It  just  comes  of  your  wanting  to  pretend  it  was 
a  secret  warship." 

David  gazed  at  her  sorrowfully ;  prior  to  this  she 
had  entered  into  the  idea  of  secrecy  with  enthusi- 
asm, and  besides,  he  now  remembered,  it  was  she 
who  originally  suggested  building  the  raft  in  back 
of  the  boathouse. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  23 

But  he  said  nothing  and  merely  stood  dejectedly, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  regarding  Nora  with  re- 
proach and  the  raft  with  hatred. 

At  last,  as  the  afternoon  was  getting  short,  they 
were  obliged  to  call  upon  David's  father  to  help 
them.  Nora  was  the  spokesman.  Mr.  Wells 
agreed  to  launch  the  raft  if  they  promised  not  to 
sail  out  of  the  little  cove.  They  immediately  and 
cheerfully  promised. 

He  left  them  standing  on  the  strand,  hanging  to 
the  rope  attached  to  the  raft,  which  was  serenely 
bobbing  up  and  down  on  the  broken  waves  of  the 
little  bay.  But  as  soon  as  the  big  man  passed  from 
their  sight  David  and  Nora  simultaneously  leaped 
aboard  and  pushed  out.  They  had  oars  and  a  long 
pole  for  punting,  and  they  had  prepared,  days  ago, 
the  story  to  accompany  the  important  ceremony 
of  launching. 

They  were  Nihilists  escaping  from  Siberia  and 
more  immediately  from  a  pack  of  bloodthirsty 
wolves  by  way  of  the  raft.  They  just  reached  it  in 
time,  as  the  bloody  fangs  of  the  foremost  wolf 
snapped  at  their  heels.  Pip,  standing  on  the  shore 
gazing  after  them  reproachfully,  was  the  pack  of 
wolves.  But — alas  for  the  illusion  of  the  plot! 
He  plunged  into  the  water  and  swam  after  them, 
which  was  exciting  as  far  as  it  went  but,  eventu- 
ally, they  had  to  lift  him  out  of  the  water  and  up 


24  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

on  the  raft  instead  of  beating  him  off  with  oars 
and  discharging  their  last  shot  at  him — which  the 
truth  of  the  story  demanded. 

1 1  Pippins ! ' '  exclaimed  Nora, '  *  why  could  n't  you 
stay  on  shore  ?  Now  we  can't  play  we  're  Nihilists 
because  there  's  no  use  escaping  if  you  're  not  es- 
caping from  anything." 

For  a  time  they  merely  drifted  around  the  little 
bay,  with  the  erstwhile  bloodthirsty  wolf  sleeping 
contentedly  in  the  sun.  Presently  David,  who  had 
been  musing,  brightened  with :  ' '  We  can  make  be- 
lieve we  're  De  Soto  going  down  the  Mississippi 
and  the  shores  are  lined  with  savages. ' ' 

"Was  n't  he  buried  in  the  river  at  midnight?" 

"Yes;  we  can  bury  Pip." 

"No;  he's  wet  enough  already;  besides  he 
would  n  't  make  a  very  good  De  Soto  except  when 
he  's  being  buried. ' ' 

"Well,  let  's  play  the  first  part  anyway." 

In  their  zeal  at  getting  away  from  the  savages 
they  did  not  notice  they  were  drifting  rapidly  out 
of  the  inner  bay  and  past  the  line  of  rocks  whose 
arm  was  its  chief  shelter.  They  did  not  realize  it 
until  a  current  took  hold  of  the  raft  and  carried  it 
with  swift  hands  out  toward  the  open  bay.  David 
plied  the  oars  frantically  and  Nora  found  the  pole 
useless  for  the  bottom  was  yards  beyond  its  reach. 

Finally  they  gave  it  up  and  looked  at  each  other 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  25 

with   white    faces.     Only   Pip   was    undisturbed. 

"We  '11  surely  be  seen  and  picked  up,"  said 
David,  as  if  Nora  had  asked  him  a  question. 

But  the  worst  of  it  was  that  night  was  coming 
on.  Both  the  shore  and  the  bay  were  deserted  ex- 
cept that  at  a  distance,  close  to  Staten  Island,  a 
few  large  boats  and  barges  lay  at  anchor. 

"Let  's  yell!"  suggested  Nora,  lifting  up  her 
clear  young  voice  with :  "Help !  We  're  drifting 
out!" 

The  raft  was  now  seesawing  dizzily  with  the  mo- 
tion of  the  large  waves  and  the  water  curved  and 
broke  over  the  raft  so  that  they  were  wet  up  to 
their  waists.  Nora  had  to  pick  Pip  up  and  hold 
him  in  her  arms  to  prevent  him  from  being  swept 
overboard. 

"I  wonder — if  we  're  going  to  be  drowned,"  said 
Nora  in  a  small  voice. 

' '  Don 't  be  silly ! ' '  said  David  bravely,  and  added 
less  confidently:  "Do  you  think  we  ought  to 
pray?" 

"I  think  it  will  be  better  to  keep  on  yelling!" 
said  Nora,  and  tucking  Pip  beneath  her  arm  she 
made  a  trumpet  of  her  hands  and  called  lustily. 

"We  ought  to  hang  up  a  flag  of  distress,"  sug- 
gested David,  after  a  few  moments  of  vain  shout- 
ing. 

"It  's  almost  too  dark  to  see  it,"  answered  Nora, 


26  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

but  she  stripped  off  her  white  petticoat  and  David 
tied  it  to  the  punting  pole  and  held  it  aloft  while 
their  eyes  searched  the  shore. 

"I  think  somebody  's  coming!"  cried  Nora  ex- 
ultantly. 

David  stopped  waving  to  gaze  with  her  towards 
the  shore  where  smaller  objects  were  no  longer  dis- 
tinct. "It  's  a  man  in  a  rowboat,"  said  Nora. 
"I  'm  sure  he  sees  us." 

Presently  the  boat  rounded  the  point  of  rocks. 
"It 's  my  father,"  said  David. 

It  was  he  and  before  very  long  he  had  caught  up 
with  them.  The  afternoon  had  blended  into  twi- 
light ;  in  half  an  hour  it  would  be  dark.  But  in  the 
dim  light  they  were  able  to  see  that  John  Wells' 
face,  usually  so  red  and  jovial,  was  now  quite 
white.  He  reached  out  and  grasped  the  side  of  the 
raft.  ' '  Jump  in ! "  he  ordered  bruskly.  l '  Quick ! ' ' 

Nora  with  Pip,  then  David,  clambered  in,  and 
John  Wells  rowed  them  home. 

When  they  were  on  the  shore  Nora  stood  de- 
fiantly in  front  of  the  big  man.  "You  're  not  go- 
ing to  whip  David,  are  you?"  Her  lips  were  blue 
with  cold  and  her  wet  clothes  clung  to  her.  "We 
didn't  mean  to  break  our  promise.  We  just 
drifted  out.  It  was  just  as  much  my  fault  as  his, 
so  if  you  're  going  to  whip  him,  whip  me,  too. ' ' 

To  her  intense  surprise,  and  somewhat  to  her  in- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  27 

dignation,  John  Wells  merely  picked  her  up  and, 
kissing  her,  told  her  there  were  to  be  no  whippings 
at  all. 

Nora  ran  home  where  a  cold  dinner  awaited  her 
in  the  kitchen,  but  no  questions  were  asked  as  her 
parents  had  gone  to  the  city. 

But  David's  mother,  as  part  punishment,  part 
preventive  of  colds  and  other  ills,  made  him  go  to 
bed  immediately  and  gave  him  a  liberal  dose  of 
physic.  "I  'd  much  rather  had  the  whipping," 
muttered  David  disgustedly. 

They  never  saw  the  raft  again;  it  probably 
drifted  far  out  to  sea  or  was  thrown  up  on  some 
lonely  beach.  But  neither  David  nor  Nora  ever 
forgot  it. 

It  was  during  the  raft-building  period  that  David 
saw  Nora's  mother  for  the  first  time.  He  thought 
she  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world  but 
he  did  not  like  her. 

It  came  about  in  this  way:  David  had  ham- 
mered his  finger  instead  of  the  nail  and  Nora,  in 
far  greater  alarm  than  he  at  its  bruised  appear- 
ance, insisted  that  he  run  up  to  the  house  with  her 
and  there  she  would  put  liniment  on  it  and  band- 
age it.  This  was  done  upstairs.  Coming  down 
they  passed  the  door  of  the  sitting-room,  the  room 
with  the  high  windows  overlooking  the  bay.  Mrs. 


28  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Davenport  was  in  there  with  Colonel  Craig  to 
whom  Nora  owed  Pip.  Mrs.  Davenport  called  to 
Nora  while  David  hung  awkwardly  in  the  back- 
ground. 

"Who  fs  the  boy?"  Nora's  mother  asked. 

And  Nora  answered:  "That 's  David — my 
chum. ' ' 

At  which  Mrs.  Davenport  and  Colonel  Craig 
smiled  at  each  other  and  David  hated  both  of  them 
for  the  manner  of  their  smiling. 

Finally  David  was  dragged  into  the  room  and 
introduced.  Mrs.  Davenport,  a  large  blonde 
woman  in  a  shimmering,  lacy  gown,  was  lying  on 
a  divan;  Colonel  Craig  was  standing  beside  the 
mantel,  tapping  the  end  of  a  cigarette  on  his  silver 
cigarette  case.  The  woman  put  her  hand  on  the 
boy's  head.  "You  're  going  to  be  a  good-looking 
man, ' '  she  said,  prodding  his  cheeks  with  her  long, 
white  fingers.  "I  trust  you  look  after  Nora. 
She  's  such  a  tomboy — I  'm  always  worried  about 
her." 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  stammered  David;  while  Nora 
murmured,  "I  can  look  out  for  myself,  I  guess." 

Then  Mrs.  Davenport  with  a  pretty  little  gesture 
dismissed  them,  and  they  ran  out  of  the  room  and 
down  to  the  beach,  vaguely  conscious  of  an  im- 
mense sense  of  relief  at  getting  out  of  the  per- 
fumed atmosphere  of  the  room. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  29 

Several  times  Nora  accompanied  David  and  his 
father  on  their  shorter  fishing  trips.  She  threw 
over  her  line  with  theirs. 

* '  I  hate  the  feel  of  the  worms ! ' '  she  exclaimed, 
wrinkling  her  nose  in  disgust  as  she  fastened  the 
wriggling  worm  on  her  hook. 

"I  '11  bait  it  for  you,"  offered  David,  reaching 
out  to  take  the  hook  from  her. 

But  she  would  have  none  of  his  assistance. 
"No,  I  '11  do  it  myself.  Anything  you  do,  I  can 
do,  too." 

But  the  summer,  the  long,  long  summer,  could 
not  last  forever.  July  blazed;  August  bloomed 
and  withered.  In  September  when  everything  was 
at  its  goldenest,  when  along  the  cliff  the  poison  ivy 
burned  scarlet  and  yellow  and  the  sea  wore  a  soft 
misty  mantle  of  purple,  when  the  golden-rod 
bloomed  and  white  and  purple  wild  asters  lined 
the  water  side  of  the  Shore  Road,  the  Davenports 
decided  to  go  back  to  New  York. 

David  himself  had  to  return  to  school  the  fol- 
lowing Monday. 

Nora  came  down  to  the  little  red  house  to  say 
gjood-by.  The  van  with  a  wonderful  picture  of 
Washington  Crossing  the  Delaware  on  one  side 
and  the  Storming  of  Quebec  on  the  other,  was  al- 
ready before  the  Davenports '  door. 

'  *  Let  's  walk  along  the  beach, ' '  proposed  David. 


30  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

He  knew  of  course  why  Nora  had  come,  but  he 
had  not  previously  known  this  was  the  day  of  de- 
parture ;  Mrs.  Davenport  was  a  woman  of  sudden 
impulses. 

They  strolled  along  the  beach  and  Pip  followed. 
Pip  could  not  understand  why  neither  Nora  nor 
David  would  throw  sticks  in  the  water  for  him  to- 
day, although  he  stopped  in  front  of  every  piece  of 
driftwood  and  gave  short,  imperative  barks  to  at- 
tract their  attention. 

"I  've  decided  to  give  you  Pip,"  Nora  said  at 
last,  breaking  the  long  silence. 

"I  '11  be  awful  glad  to  have  him,"  answered 
David.  "He  '11  miss  you  terribly." 

"Yes,  but  it  's  better  for  him  to  be  down  here 
with  you  than  in  a  New  York  apartment.  He  's 
very  fond  of  you — almost  as  much  as  he  is  of  me. ' ' 

"He  likes  me — but  you  lots,  oh,  lots,  better," 
said  David  generously. 

"Besides  I  wanted  to  give  you  something  to  re- 
member me  by — and  Pip  's  the  thing  that  's  dearest 
to  me." 

"I  'd  remember  you — anyway,"  mumbled 
David  fiercely. 

They  turned  back  and  neared  the  rocks  from 
which  you  could  see  the  City. 

"Shall  we  climb  out  and  have  a  last  look  at  the 
City!"  suggested  David  rather  forlornly. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  31 

" No,  we  '11  see  it  soon  enough." 

Again  a  silence — an  engulfing  silence ! 

The  day  was  inexpressibly  sad ;  a  mist  was  gath- 
ering over  land  and  water  and  the  damp  air  clung 
chillingly.  Even  the  golden-rod  looked  dimmed. 

"We — we  Ve  had  a  fine  old  summer,"  said 
Nora. 

David  nodded. 

"I  don't  think  we  missed — the  children — who 
would  n't  play  with  us !" 

"We  have  n't  missed  them  a  bit." 

"Are  you — ever  coming  back?"  he  asked. 

"I  heard  mother  say  she  liked  it  down  here — 
we  'd  come  back  again  next  summer." 

David  brightened.  "That 's  fine — rthe  winter 
is  n't  so  long  with  school  and  everything." 

But  he  looked  at  her  sadly  and  she  stirred  un- 
comfortably under  the  open  misery  of  his  gaze. 
He  looked  like  Pip  when  one  scolded  him.  Pip 
himself  was  busily  engaged  in  chasing  down  the 
beach.  Nora  whistled  to  him  and  he  came  bound- 
ing back  to  them,  holding  a  broom  handle  trium- 
phantly between  his  jaws.  He  thought  at  last  Nora 
would  throw  it  into  the  water  for  him.  But  she 
paid  no  attention.  "I  think  I  '11  have  to  go,"  she 
said  to  David.  ' '  The  carriage  leaves  at  five. ' ' 

David  fished  in  his  pocket  and  produced  a  small 
white  box  tied  with  a  pink  string  which  he  awk- 


32  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

wardly  handed  to  Nora.  "I  bought  this.  I  had 
some  money  in  a  bank.  I  wanted  to  give  you 
something — to  remember  me  by,  too." 

Nora  carefully  brought  it  forth  from  its  wrap- 
pings. It  was  a  gold  heart-shaped  locket  on  a  fine 
gold  chain.  ' '  Oh,  David ! ' '  she  exclaimed.  *  *  You 
shouldn't—  " 

Then  she  handed  it  to  him  saying:  "I  'd  like 
you  to  put  it  around  my  neck. ' ' 

He  did  it  with  trembling  fingers.  He  had  no 
idea  of  what  ailed  him  to-day.  But  he  felt  as  if 
the  whole  world  were  coming  to  an  end  with  Nora 's 
departure. 

They  reached  the  path  which  led  to  Nora's 
house,  a  path  which  had  been  worn  almost  en- 
tirely by  their  own  feet.  Here  Nora  held  out  her 
hand.  "Good-by.  Hold  Pip  tight  else  he  '11  fol- 
low me. ' ' 

David  held  the  dog  in  his  arms,  his  fingers 
through  the  collar.  ' '  Good-by, ' '  he  answered. 

"Good-by,  Pippins  dear."  Nora  stooped  and 
kissed  him  on  the  brown  spot  on  one  side  of  his 
black  head. 

Pip  stretched  out  his  tongue  and  panted.  He 
did  not  understand  the  proceedings;  by  all  the 
rights  of  precedence  and  custom  he  should  be 
scrambling  up  the  path  ahead  of  his  mistress  ready 
to  salute  her  at  the  top  with  a  welcoming  bark.  He 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  33 

did  not  understand,  but  he  did  not  like  the  com- 
plexion of  things  in  the  least. 

David  broke  through  his  thicket  of  embarrass- 
ment and  said:  " Would — would  you  mind  kiss- 
ing me  good-by,  too,  Nora?"  His  face  slowly 
burned  red  at  his  request. 

For  answer  Nora  turned  and  kissed  him,  and  the 
color  of  her  face  was  the  color  of  his.  It  made  her 
angry  to  feel  this  way  with  David;  she  always  felt 
so  thoroughly  at  ease  with  him. 

So  she  said  nothing  more,  but  climbed  up  the 
cliff  path,  taking  the  first  few  steps  slowly  and 
then,  suddenly,  starting  to  run  as  rapidly  as  she 
could.  She  did  not  once  look  back,  although  David 
had  counted  on  her  doing  so. 

Finally  when  she  had  vanished,  he  sat  down  on 
the  beach,  holding  the  struggling  Pip  in  his  arms. 
"  Don't  you  care,  Pippins,"  he  whispered. 
"She  '11  be  back.  It  's  only  a  winter,  Pippins — 
only  a  long,  long  winter." 

But  Pip,  realizing  at  last  his  struggles  were  en- 
tirely superfluous,  merely  gazed  at  David  with  re- 
proachful eyes  that  seemed  to  say,  " It  isn't  fair, 
David — honest,  it  is  n't." 

And  David  agreed  with  him. 


CHAPTEB  IV 

NEXT  June,  the  year  following,  David  received 
this  letter.     It  was  the  first  letter  he  had 
ever  received : 

Dear  David: 

I'm  not  coming  down  to  Bay  Ridge  this  summer.  Mother 
has  decided  to  take  a  cottage  at  Far  Rockaway. 

I  have  often  thought  of  last  summer  and  the  good  times 
we  had.  I  wonder  whether  we  would  have  as  good  times  this 
summer  even  if  I  did  come.  I've  grown  quite  a  lot.  I'm 
almost  two  inches  taller  and  even  thinner  than  I  was.  Mother 
said  to  Colonel  Craig  that  I  was  a  fright  and  he  said  some- 
thing about  the  ugly  duckling.  Of  course  I  knew  what  he 
meant.  I  do  think  I'll  be  beautiful  some  day.  Of  course 
mother  is  beautiful,  but  I  don't  want  to  be  beautiful  in  that 
way.  I'll  have  brown  skin  and  dark  hair,  and  I  hope  I'll 
stay  thin,  even  skinny.  Mother  is  always  worrying  about  get- 
ting fat,  and  always  doing  things  to  keep  her  weight  down 
except  give  up  candy  and  pastry,  which  are  just  what 's  mak- 
ing her  fat. 

This  is  an  awfully  long  letter  for  me.  I'm  awfully  sorry 
I  'm  not  coming  down.  I  thought  about  it  nearly  all  last 
night  after  mother  told  me.  How  is  Pip?  Give  him  my 
love — you,  too. 

Yours  truly, 

NORA  DAVENPORT. 
34 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  35 

The  letter  arrived  in  the  morning.  David  read 
it,  and  then  taking  Pip  down  the  beach,  read  it 
again  aloud  to  him.  Pip  always  pricked  up  his 
ears  at  the  mention  of  Nora's  name,  and  stared  you 
straight  in  the  eyes,  and  now  David  tried  to  make 
him  understand  by  saying,  "Nora,  no!  Not  this 
summer,  Pip ! ' '  and  by  shaking  his  head,  but  it  is 
doubtful  if  Pip  quite  comprehended  what  it  was  all 
about,  although  he  looked  properly  dejected  and 
discouraged. 

Then  David  walked  farther  along  the  beach  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  Pip  at  his  heels.  He 
had  counted  a  great  deal  on  Nora's  return.  He 
did  not  realize  how  much  until  this  letter  put  his 
hopes  to  flight.  He  had  often  thought  about  it  and 
pictured  her  coming  down  the  cliff  path  to  meet 
him,  swinging  her  sailor  hat,  her  lips  parted,  the 
familiar  little  wrinkle  between  her  straight  eye- 
brows. The  winter  had  seemed  nothing  more  than 
an  interval  preparatory  to  her  return.  There 
were  so  many  things  he  had  planned  to  tell  her,  so 
many  things  which  he  did  not  understand,  which 
puzzled  him  exorbitantly,  and  which  he  would  have 
liked  to  discuss  with  her. 

For  one  thing  there  were  his  father  and  mother. 
A  great  wonder  had  arisen  in  him  this  winter,  or  at 
least  the  wonder  had  taken  form  this  winter,  as  to 
why  his  father  and  mother  had  ever  married. 


36  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

They  were  so  ridiculously  unsuited  to  each  other 
— his  big,  gruff  father,  loud  of  voice,  red,  boister- 
ous, smacking  of  the  sea  and  of  the  common  peo- 
ple who  toiled  and  labored  all  their  li ves ;  and  his 
mother,  quiet,  with  her  soft  voice  and  gentle 
speech,  which  only  served  to  emphasize  her  inflex- 
ible demeanor  and  the  straining  of  her  eyes  which 
always  looked  as  if  they  had  seen  things  lost  never 
to  be  recovered.  David  did  not  understand  it ;  he 
would  have  liked  to  have  talked  it  over  with  Nora. 
He  did  not  think  it  would  be  disloyal  to  his  par- 
ents. Talking  it  over  with  Nora  would  be  like 
thinking  it  over  by  himself — no  more  treasonable 
than  that. 

He  came  to  a  halt  before  the  string  of  rocks 
that  ran  out  into  the  bay.  He  had  changed  this 
past  year,  he  thought.  He  felt  a  little  contemptu- 
ous of  his  former  self;  the  self  of  the  fairy  stories 
and  the  pool-digging ;  he  was  now  reading  Dickens, 
Scott,  and  Bulwer-Lytton.  He  had  also  read  a  few 
of  Dumas'  novels.  He  no  longer  even  enjoyed  the 
books  of  boys'  adventures  which  formerly  had  so 
excited  him.  He  was  no  longer  a  child — child- 
hood had  left  him  this  past  winter.  And  the  long 
winter  evenings,  spent  before  the  driftwood  fire  in 
the  kitchen,  had  been  devoted  to  wondering  about 
Nora  and  himself,  life  and  the  world.  .  .  . 

Nora  had  changed  too,  he  thought.     He  tried  to 


37 

picture  her  grown  thinner  and  two  inches  taller. 
But  he  could  only  see  her  as  she  looked  when  she 
said  good-by  to  him  that  afternoon  last  September, 
gazing  at  him  seriously  and  holding  out  her  small 
freckled  hand. 

He  answered  her  letter  that  night.  In  his  reply 
he  told  her  how  sorry  he  was  that  she  was  not  com- 
ing to  Bay  Ridge  that  summer ;  also  he  told  her  a 
great  deal  about  Pip ;  how  he  had  been  in  several 
fights  with  a  big  yellow  dog  from  up  the  Shore 
Road  and  how  he  had  come  out  victorious,  but 
with  a  permanently  disfigured  ear,  and  also  that 
he  had  grown  heavier  but  cleverer  than  ever. 
But  when  he  sent  the  letter  he  felt  it  was  a  very 
sorry  affair,  containing  altogether  too  much  about 
Pip  and  altogether  too  little  about  how  disap- 
pointed he,  David,  was  because  he  would  not  see 
her  that  summer. 

He  waited  for  an  answer  from  day  to  day, 
but  possibly  she  never  received  it — at  any  rate,  he 
never  had  a  reply. 

His  hopes  flew  to  the  next  summer  but  the 
Davenports  did  not  return  to  Bay  Ridge,  nor  did 
they  the  following  summer.  Several  years  passed 
and  he  heard  no  more  from  Nora. 

Meanwhile  the  uneventful  but  restless,  strangely 
disturbed  years  of  his  adolescence  lay  upon  him. 
They  were  occupied  by  school,  by  reading,  by  go- 


38  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

ing  out  on  fishing  trips  with  his  father,  by  groping 
through  a  labyrinth  of  dark  ideas  and  sensations, 
by  endless  questionings  .  .  . 

Each  year  David  gained  different  ideas,  dis- 
carding his  old  ones  as  he  discarded  his  old,  worn- 
out  clothes.  As  he  looked  back  upon  these  years 
afterwards,  there  were  only  two  impressions  that 
remained  distinct  with  him.  They  stood  out  like 
white  sails  on  an  empty  sea.  One  was  the  loss  and 
the  constant  thought  of  Nora,  who  represented  all 
of  woman  and  almost  all  of  friend  he  had  ever 
known.  And  the  other  was  the  Great  Dream. 

The  Dream  had  crept  in  upon  him  formlessly  al- 
most while  he  was  still  a  child,  even  before  he  knew 
Nora.  It  had  stayed  with  him  and  grown  and 
gained  body  and  soul  as  he  grew.  Sitting  out  on 
the  rocks  from  which  you  could  see  the  City  rising 
white  and  majestic  from  the  sea,  the  Dream  be- 
came clearest  and  most  real  to  him.  And  at  night, 
with  the  stars  shining  overhead,  or  with  the  rain 
whipping  in  his  face,  he  trudged  along  the  shore 
with  dear  old  Pip  silently  following  and  the  Dream 
took  possession  of  him  so  that  he  was  hardly  con- 
scious of  where  he  walked  or  how  the  night  length- 
ened or  whether  the  wind  blew  cold  or  hot.  He 
lost  himself  in  his  dream. 

What  was  this  Dream?  It  is  almost  impossible 
to  describe  it :  it  was  so  vague,  so  shadowy,  so  lack- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  39 

ing  in  semblance  and  form.  It  was  the  dream  that 
Youth  always  dreams;  Youth's  compact  with  the 
future,  hidden  in  rosy  clouds.  It  was  like  a  poem 
that  is  never  written  or  a  song  that  is  never  sung. 
It  was  as  beautiful  as  moonlight  on  water  and  as 
intangible;  as  musical  as  a  breeze  in  a  pine  tree 
and  as  fleeting.  It  was  the  eternal  and  unreal 
dream  of  Youth  conquering  the  world,  Youth  that 
does  not  know  where  it  goes  nor  why.  Only  one 
thing  was  clear  to  David  and  that  was  that  this 
dream  was  to  help  his  fellow  men  in  some  way, 
make  them  happier,  kinder,  more  charitable  to  one 
another. 

Sometimes  it  did  take  shape.  For  a  little  while, 
for  instance,  David  thought  of  becoming  a 
preacher.  He  fancied  religion  would  furnish  him 
a  tool  with  which  to  fashion  his  dream  into  form. 
He  became  a  passionate  Christian.  He  went  to 
church  every  Sunday  morning  and  evening;  when 
the  minister  spoke  from  his  pulpit  David  swayed 
with  his  words;  when  the  Revivalists  called  for 
converts  he  stumbled  down  the  aisle  and  knelt  at 
the  altar,  weeping,  torn  with  remorse  for  he  knew 
not  what;  once  or  twice  he  stole  into  the  church 
alone  in  the  afternoon  when  it  was  dim  and  de- 
serted, and  there  on  his  knees  prayed  to  be  shown 
the  light,  the  path,  prayed  for  faith  and  righteous- 
ness; mumbling  phrases  that  reflected  the  minis- 


40  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

ter's  sermons,  phrases  coined  two  thousand  years 
ago,  of  whose  meaning  he  was  almost  ignorant. 

But  suddenly,  after  a  year  or  two,  this  fervor 
deserted  him  as  abruptly  as  it  had  come.  An  inci- 
dent hastened  its  departure. 

He  discovered  an  unfortunate  girl,  a  silly  child 
of  startled  eyes  and  red  lips ;  he  had  known  her  at 
school,  and  somehow  she  was  led  to  confess  her 
trouble  to  him.  He  in  all  confidence  went  to  the 
minister,  and  the  minister,  an  eminently  respect- 
able and  incompetent  man,  hemmed  and  hawed  and 
finally  said  he  would  see  what  could  be  done — of 
course  the  matter  must  be  gone  into  carefully — it 
was  very  sad  .  .  .  There  was  a  delay.  Meanwhile 
the  girl  disappeared,  God  alone  knows  where. 
And  for  many  years  after  that,  despite  his 
mother's  protests,  David  did  not  enter  a  church. 

But  the  Great  Dream  still  remained,  although  it 
had  been  shaken ;  it  came  to  possess  him  more  com- 
pletely than  ever.  For  a  time  it  had  taken  a  side 
path,  but  it  was  in  the  highway  again  triumphant. 
Yet  it  never  took  definite  shape.  Whether  he  was 
to  send  forth  his  message  in  a  book  or  in  a  won- 
derful poem,  or  whether  he  was  simply  to  go  out 
and  spend  his  days  working  for  the  happiness  of 
the  poor  in  the  City,  he  could  never  decide.  But 
he  had  no  doubt  that  time  would  bring  the  solution. 

Out  on  the  rocks  he  sat  often  of  afternoons  with 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  41 

his  eyes  on  the  City  and  his  thoughts  wrapped 
around  him  like  a  warming  blanket.  In  a  book  he 
had  read  of  a  great  man  who  had  come  to  a  famous 
city ;  they  had  thrown  open  the  gates  to  him,  beau- 
tiful girls  had  spread  flowers  in  his  path,  and  the 
Lord  Mayor  had  given  him  the  keys  of  the  City. 
The  keys  of  the  City !  It  had  a  magic  ring,  that 
phrase.  David  could  not  forget  it.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  some  day  he  was  to  be  given  the  keys  to 
the  City,  that  wonderful  city  over  the  waters  rais- 
ing its  proud  head  to  the  very  heavens. 

Then,  in  the  midst  of  these  dreams,  violently, 
like  a  blow  between  the  eyes,  came  the  shock  of  his 
father's  death. 

The  equinoctial  storms  arrived  late  that  Sep- 
tember and  they  were  preceded  by  many  long, 
calm,  sleeping  days  of  mirrored  skies  and  water. 
It  was  a  season  in  which  bluefish  were  scarce  and 
David  and  his  father  went  greater  distances  out  to 
sea  than  they  had  ever  ventured  before.  Then 
school  commenced  (David  was  going  to  high  school 
in  Brooklyn  by  now)  and  John  Wells  went  on  his 
fishing  trips  alone. 

David  came  back  from  school  one  afternoon 
about  half-past  four  to  find  low,  ragged,  dirty 
clouds  scudding  across  the  shuddering  sky  and  the 
wind  blowing  so  that  the  trees  and  bushes  on  the 
cliff  bowed  low  beneath  its  force.  An  occasional 


42  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

bird  swept  startled  and  shrieking  through  the  air. 

In  the  morning  when  he  had  left  the  sky  had 
been  as  blue  and  the  bay  as  calm  as  it  had  been  for 
weeks,  but  now,  at  last,  the  equinoctial  storms 
were  arriving. 

His  mother  did  not  answer  his  call  as  he  entered 
the  little  red  house ;  going  outside  he  found  her  on 
the  wharf  gazing  out  to  sea,  her  skirts  blowing 
and  flapping  around  her  in  the  wind,  her  hand 
shielding  her  eyes.  She  reminded  David  of  a 
painting  he  had  seen  recently  in  the  Brooklyn  Art 
Museum  where  he  had  spent  a  few  of  his  after- 
noons. It  was  entitled  *  *  The  Sailor 's  Wife, ' '  and 
his  mother  stood  there  now  in  the  same  position 
as  the  woman  was  shown  standing  in  the  pic- 
ture. 

When  he  put  his  hand  on  her  arm  and  looked  at 
her  questioningly,  she  told  him  his  father  had,  as 
usual,  gone  out  for  his  second  trip  about  twelve 
o'clock  as  soon  as  he  had  delivered  some  orders  on 
the  Hill  and  had  finished  his  lunch.  Even  then  the 
sky  threatened  but  the  big  man  had  merely  laughed 
— she  could  not  reason  with  him. 

David  stood  beside  his  mother  on  the  wharf  un- 
til the  rain  came.  Staten  Island  was  blotted  out 
by  its  flood.  Even  the  waves  in  the  sheltered  lit- 
tle cove  tumbled  and  raced  angrily  upon  the  beach. 
Outside,  in  the  open  bay,  the  waters  tore  and 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  43 

boiled  and  the  waves  threw  their  white  crest  slant- 
ing, high  in  the  air  like  beautiful  mad  women ;  the 
whole  air  was  full  of  flying  salt  spray  until  the 
two,  standing  on  the  dock,  seemed  lost  in  an  insane 
whirl  of  water  and  howling  wind — there  was  noth- 
ing else.  But  they  stayed  there,  holding  fast  to 
each  other,  until  darkness  came  and  the  rain  swept 
down  in  blinding,  wind-driven  sheets. 

"He  's  put  in  at  Staten  Island,"  said  David, 
when  finally  he  had  drawn  his  mother  indoors. 

But  she  looked  at  him  with  strange,  unbeliev- 
ing eyes. 

They  ate  no  dinner.  About  ten  o'clock,  when 
the  storm  was  at  its  worst,  Mrs.  Wells  insisted  on 
building  a  huge  fire  of  kerosene-soaked  driftwood. 
They  started  it  beneath  the  shed  on  the  iron  mat 
pulled  from  beneath  the  parlor  stove,  but  as  soon 
as  the  blazing  pile  was  placed  out  on  the  wharf 
where  it  could  be  seen  from  the  bay,  the  waves  and 
the  rain  leaped  to  put  it  out. 

David  went  to  bed  at  midnight,  but  he  could  not 
sleep.  He  thought  of  his  father  out  there  in  the 
rushing  waters,  in  his  small,  pitiably  unfit  boat, 
and  still  more  he  thought  of  his  mother  and  of  her 
behavior  to-night.  He  could  not  but  help  think  of 
a  woman  harassed  by  remorse.  And  then  sud- 
denly he  saw  his  father,  as  he  had  seen  him  many 
times,  approach  his  mother  and  try  to  put  his 


44  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

arm  around  her  waist,  or  to  kiss  her  only  to  be  re- 
pulsed. .  .  . 

He  knew-  his  mother  was  still  downstairs  at  the 
window  watching.  He  could  not  understand  her. 
She  did  not  love  his  father.  A  thousand  things 
had  shown  that.  And  now  here  she  was,  with 
hard,  staring  eyes  and  trembling  lips. 

David  lay  in  bed  and  puzzled  over  it  as  he 
had  puzzled  many  times.  He  tossed  restlessly. 
After  an  hour  he  decided  to  go  down  and  per- 
suade his  mother  to  go  to  bed. 

He  found  the  kitchen  and  bedroom  empty;  the 
stove  was  red  and  a  pot  of  coffee  was  boiling  on 
it.  But  his  mother  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  He 
opened  the  door  and  when  his  eyes  became  accus- 
tomed to  the  darkness,  he  saw  her  standing  out  on 
the  wharf  again  in  the  wind  and  the  rain,  gazing 
out  to  sea.  He  called  to  her  but  she  did  not  hear 
him.  He  slipped  a  rubber  coat  of  his  father's  over 
his  night  shirt,  drew  on  a  pair  of  rubber  boots,  and 
went  out  to  her.  He  had  to  draw  her  forcibly  into 
the  house.  But  she  would  not  go  to  bed. 

David  decided  to  wait  downstairs  with  her  and, 
pulling  a  large  chair  in  from  the  parlor,  he  placed 
it  in  front  of  the  stove  and  threw  himself  into  it. 
But  he  fell  asleep  and  slept  until  dawn  and  then 
awakened  to  find  her  still  sitting  at  the  window 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  45 

with  the  pale  gray  daylight  outside  and  the  coffee 
still  boiling  on  the  stove. 

His  father  never  returned  .  .  . 

They  found  his  dory  smashing  itself  to  bits  in 
the  surf  beyond  Fort  Hamilton  and,  later,  they 
learned  that  he  had  put  in  at  Staten  Island  and  had 
gone  to  the  Inn  where  he  occasionally  stayed,  but 
after  a  few  hours  of  drinking  he  had  disappeared. 
His  cronies  did  not  realize  until  too  late  that  in 
half  drunken  egotism  and  courage  he  had  made 
good  his  boast  to  take  his  small  boat  out  to  sea 
in  defiance  of  the  storm,  because,  as  he  said,  he  did 
not  want  the  wife  and  the  boy  to  worry. 

His  father's  death  swung  David  squarely  be- 
fore the  enormous  problem  of  his  future. 


CHAPTER  V 

AFTER  his  father 's  death  David  continued  to 
go  to  school  for  a  week  or  two,  until  one 
Sunday  he  and  his  mother  had  a  long  talk  regard- 
ing his  future  and  what  he  was  to  do  now  to  pre- 
pare for  it. 

Mrs.  Wells  had  evidently  been  premeditating 
this  talk.  She  was  ready  with  a  host  of  sugges- 
tions and  explanations. 

"Now,  David,"  she  began,  as  soon  as  they  were 
seated  in  the  parlor  to  which  she  had  led  the  way 
in  a  formal  fashion,  "we  must  consider  that  I 
have  my  personal  income  of  about  five  hundred 
dollars.  Aside  from  that  we  have  nothing.  It 
isn't  enough  to  help  you  through  college  as  I 
would  like  to  do.  We  may  be  able  to  scrape  along 
so  that  you  can  finish  high  school.  But  you  are 
seventeen  now — almost  a  man.  The  question  is, 
Would  n't  it  be  better  to  have  you  start  in  business 
immediately?  You  have  two  years  more  at  high 
school — in  business  they  would  mean  considerable 
progress. " 

"I  could  earn  some  money  by  fishing  after- 

46 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  47 

noons,  and  with  the  money  we  get  letting  out  boats 
on  Saturdays  and  Sundays — "  suggested  David. 

Mrs.  Wells  drew  herself  together;  a  set  look 
came  into  her  face — a  look  of  determination. 
"We  're  through  with  that,"  she  said,  "entirely 
through  with  it — that  part  of  our  life  is  finished. 
I  don't  want  you  to  have  anything  to  do  with  fish 
and  boats," — suddenly  her  voice  changed — 
"Oh,  my  son,"  she  cried,  "if  you  knew  how  it  has 
made  me  suffer — how  it  has  broken  me!  I  hate 
this  place!  I  Ve  always  hated  it!  And  these 
people !  I  'm  depending  on  you  to  enable  us  to 
get  away  from  here.  I  'm  praying  for  your 
success.  We  must  go  where  this  isn't  known, 
where  we  can  take  our  proper  place  as  gentle- 
folk." 

David  was  very  much  moved.  "I  '11  do  any- 
thing you  say,  Mother ' ' ;  and  awkwardly,  because 
she  had  never  awakened  these  feelings  in  him  be- 
fore, he  came  over  and  knelt  beside  her ;  he  put  his 
hand  over  hers.  After  a  moment,  however,  she 
stooped  and  kissed  him  quickly  and  said:  "Now 
go  back  to  your  seat  and  we  '11  talk  the  thing  over 
more  sensibly." 

David,  abashed,  arose  and  returned  to  his  chair. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  during  which  his 
mother  seemed  to  be  gathering  together  and  re- 
arranging the  sequence  of  her  thoughts. 


48  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"What  business  or  profession  have  you  thought 
about  ? ' '  she  finally  asked. 

David  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  never  thought 
about  any ;  of  course  his  Great  Dream  was  really 
his  purpose  in  life,  but  he  could  not  explain  this 
wonderful  dream  to  the  silent  and  stern  woman 
sitting  opposite  him  even  though  she  was  his 
mother. 

"I — I  haven't  thought  about  anything  in  par- 
ticular, "he  said,  realizing  that  the  admission 
made  a  sorry  figure  of  him. 

"I  wish  you  were  more  practical,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Wells  with  a  sigh,  "but  I  can't  blame  you. 
I  have  always  been  very  practical — very — but  at  a 
crucial  moment,  in  a  moment  of  madness,  I  threw 
all  my  common  sense  to  the  winds!"  She  knitted 
her  brows  and  sat  with  her  fingers  plucking  at  the 
coarse  cheap  stuff  of  her  mourning  dress.  Pres- 
ently she  resumed,  in  a  manner  that  suggested  she 
spoke  reluctantly  of  these  things:  "I  have  a 
brother  who  is  a  lawyer,  but  I  don't  like  to  ask 
favors  of  him  unless  it  's  absolutely  necessary." 

"My  uncle  a  lawyer!"  David  burst  out.  To  the 
fisherman's  son  it  was  almost  as  if  some  one  had 
announced  to  him  that  his  uncle  was  one  of  Scott's 
heroes  or  the  Duke  of  Westminster. 

His  mother  frowned  at  his  enthusiasm.  "He 
is  a  very  famous  lawyer  and  a  very  hard  man.  I 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  49 

doubt  whether  he  would  help  you,  but  if  you  wish 
very  much  to  study  law,  I  might  see  him." 

"If  I  studied  law  I  'd  have  to  know  more  Latin, 
I  think, ' '  said  David  eagerly.  *  *  That  would  mean 
two  more  years  at  high  school." 

"I  have  a  cousin  who  is  in  the  insurance  busi- 
ness," went  on  Mrs.  Wells,  ignoring  David's  last 
remark,  as  if  she  herself  had  considered  and 
passed  on  the  question  of  his  becoming  a  lawyer. 
"  He  is  secretary  of  a  big  company  on  Wall  Street. 
Probably  you  'd  do  better  there." 

The  name  "Wall  Street"  called  forth  David's 
instant  interest.  He  had  of  late  read  and  heard  a 
great  deal  of  Wall  Street.  It  seemed  marvelous 
careers  in  finance  and  adventure  (with  which  you 
could  surely  link  up  altruism)  awaited  almost 
every  youth  who  once  got  a  foothold  in  that  mirac- 
ulous street. 

1 '  I  should  like  that ! "  he  exclaimed. 

"Very  well,"  replied  his  mother,  pleased  this 
time  at  his  eagerness,  "I  shall  write  Henry  to- 
morrow and  ask  for  an  interview." 

David,  carried  out  of  his  usual  reserve,  felt 
that  now  was  the  time  to  confess  to  his  mother  his 
Great  Dream;  it  boiled  within  him  and  burned  to 
be  told,  but  when  he  began  confusedly  in  broken 
sentences,  his  mother  raised  a  protesting  hand. 
"I  wish  you  would  leave  me  alone,  David.  This 


50  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

stirring  up  of  old  memories,  of  people  I  have  tried 
to  forget,  has  been  very  painful.  I  should  like 
to  be  alone  awhile." 

So  David  whistled  to  Pip,  who  was  never  al- 
lowed in  the  parlor,  and  the  two  of  them  went 
down  the  beach.  When  they  reached  the  point 
where  you  could  see  the  big  white  house  which  the 
Davenports  had  occupied  that  eventful  summer,  he 
stopped  and  gazed  up  at  it.  Another  family  from 
New  York  had  rented  it  the  past  season — a  family 
which  flowered  in  white-flanneled  youths.  But 
none  of  them  had  noticed  David ;  on  the  beach  and 
on  the  Shore  Road  above  they  had  passed  him  as 
unconscious  of  his  presence  as  if  he  did  not  exist. 
One  day  one  of  the  girls,  a  black-haired,  slim  girl, 
dropped  a  white  ribbon  and  David  picked  it  up 
and  ran  after  her  with  it.  She  thanked  him  pret- 
tily with  a  smile  that  reminded  him  of  Nora. 

He  thought  of  this  incident  now  as  he  stood  be- 
low, gazing  up  at  the  white  house.  He  pretended 
Nora  was  up  there  and  that  he  was  going  up  to  see 
her  and  tell  her  he  was  to  start  in  business  in  Wall 
Street  and  that  his  uncle  was  a  lawyer,  and  a 
cousin,  secretary  of  a  big  insurance  company.  He 
had  often  dreamed  of  Wall  Street  out  there  on  the 
rocks — Wall  Street  and  Broadway  and  Fifth  Ave- 
nue, and  other  famous  streets.  He  pretended  he 
was  walking  upon  them  now,  and  Nora  was  beside 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  51 

him,  and  everybody  turned  to  look  after  Nora  and 
to  envy  him. 

The  cliff  path  was  lined  with  a  few  late  wild 
asters  and  scattered  stalks  of  golden-rod  with  the 
bloom  gray  with  age.  They  made  him  think  of  the 
last  time  he  had  seen  Nora  when  she  said  good-by 
to  him  on  this  spot  where  he  was  now  standing. 
Suddenly  he  found  pretending  a  mighty  empty  and 
unsatisfactory  sort  of  game — so  he  walked  on 
along  the  beach. 

Pip,  who  was  getting  fat  and  old,  began  to  limp, 
a  trick  of  his  when  tired.  David  picked  him  up. 
"Come  on,  old  Pippins,"  he  said,  rubbing  Pip's 
ear,  "we  '11  go  out  on  the  rocks  and  rest  until  sup- 
per time.  We  '11  dream,  old  Pippins — that 's 
what  we  '11  do.  And  don't  you  care  because 
you  're  getting  old,  Pip.  I  '11  soon  give  you  a  gold 
cushion  and  ice  cream  like  the  little  girl  in  the 
rhyme,  don't  you  remember?  Ice  cream  every 
day,  you  old  glutton  of  a  Pip,  and  sausage  and 
chocolate  and  you  '11  see  Nora  again  before  you 
die.  Yes,  you  will,  I  '11  promise  you  that.  For 
it 's  Wall  Street,  Pip ;  it  's  business ;  it  's  being  as 
good  as  anybody  else ;  it  's  taking  us  back  to  Nora ; 
it 's  doing  all  sorts  of  good  to  all  sorts  of  people 
— that 's  what  it  is,  Pippins." 

But  when  they  got  out  on  the  rocks,  Pip,  despite 
all  this  enthusiasm,  promptly  and  quite  phleg- 


52  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

matically  went  to  sleep,  his  black  muzzle  on  his 
master's  knee,  and  left  David  to  dream  alone. 

On  Thursday,  Mrs.  Wells  received  an  answer 
to  her  letter  to  her  cousin,  saying  to  bring  David  to 
the  office  the  following  Monday  and  after  an  in- 
terview he  would  be  able  to  decide  whether  he 
could  find  him  a  position  in  the  office  or  not ;  that, 
of  course,  it  would  have  to  be  a  very  modest  posi- 
tion to  begin  with — all  the  employees  had  to  start 
from  the  bottom ;  it  depended  entirely  upon  them- 
selves how  rapidly  they  worked  their  way  up ;  that 
they  had  so  many  applications,  and  so  forth. 
There  it  ended  very  abruptly  with  a  curt  and  crisp, 
"Yours  truly,  Henry  Stanton." 

Friday,  David  went  to  high  school  for  the  last 
time.  He  could  not  feel  very  much  regret  at  leav- 
ing; he  had  few  intimate  friends  there;  he  was 
eager  to  take  up  the  new  life,  the  business  life. 
He  did  not  like  abandoning  some  of  his  studies, 
French  and  German,  political  economy  and  Eng- 
lish, but  he  found  comfort  in  thinking  he  would 
continue  them  by  himself. 

Saturday,  his  mother  bought  him  a  new  suit  of 
ready-made  clothes  with  other  furnishings — a  new 
tie  and  boots  and  a  smart,  brown  Derby  hat.  On 
Monday  morning  she  inspected  him  very  carefully 
in  his  new  finery,  turning  him  around  several  times 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  53 

while  she  studied  the  details  of  his  appearance. 
The  scrutiny  satisfied  her.  "Yes,  you  '11  do, 
David,"  she  said.  "You  already  look  almost  like 
the  grandson  of  a  gentleman — a  few  more  years 
and  there  '11  be  no  traces  of  fish  and  of  letting  out 
boats  on  Sunday." 

David  was  absurdly  pleased  at  her  approval. 
He  threw  a  surreptitious  glance  at  himself  in  the 
mirror ;  his  new  blue  suit  certainly  was  the  best  he 
had  ever  had ;  he  thought  he  looked  as  well  as  any 
of  the  white-flanneled  youths  of  whom  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  on  their  way  to  the  City  yester- 
day. 

Mrs.  Wells,  too,  this  Monday  morning,  was  most 
carefully  and  elegantly  attired.  She  had  on  a 
black  silk  dress  which,  although  even  to  David's 
unpractised  eye  looked  decidedly  out  of  style,  was 
of  a  very  rich  and  heavy  sheen;  a  fine  lace  collar 
beautifully  yellow  with  age  was  around  her  neck 
and  an  oval  gold  brooch  held  it  together — an  oval 
brooch  with  a  pink  and  white  cameo  in  its  center. 

They  left  the  little  red  house  at  half -past  eight 
and  taking  the  trolley  and  the  ferry  from  Hamil- 
ton Avenue,  arrived  silent  and  excited  at  the  of- 
fices of  the  Inland  Casualty  Company  a  few  min- 
utes before  ten.  These  offices  were  in  a  great 
granite  building  that  was  lofty  but  unimpressive. 
But  the  offices  themselves  were  all  that  one  could 


54  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

possibly  expect.  They  had  walls  of  white  marble. 
Placed  at  intervals  huge  columns  of  marble, 
streaked  and  flecked  with  blue  and  orange  lines, 
supported  the  ceiling,  and  there  was  much  gilt  iron 
work  and  shining  mahogany.  The  splendor  of  it 
took  David's  breath  away;  the  only  thing  that  he 
had  ever  seen  that  compared  with  it  was  the  statu- 
ary room  of  the  Brooklyn  Art  Museum. 

A  well-dressed  youth  with  deferential  manners 
took  Mrs.  Wells '  name  to  the  secretary  of  the  com- 
pany, Mr.  Henry  Stanton,  her  cousin. 

After  a  short  wait,  they  were  ushered  into  a 
small  bare  office  with  a  huge  desk,  at  which  sat  a 
thin  nervous  man  with  eyeglasses  and  with  his 
hair  parted  with  extreme  nicety  in  the  exact  center 
of  his  head. 

"How  do  you  do,  Henry?"  said  David's  mother 
composedly,  holding  out  her  hand  and  apparently 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  she  had  not  seen  her 
cousin  in  fifteen  years. 

"How  do  you  do,  Jane,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  ris- 
ing from  his  chair  and  pulling  another  chair  for- 
ward for  her  with  an  impatient,  abrupt  motion. 
Then  he  turned  to  David.  ' '  So  this  is  your  son  f ' ' 

Mrs.  Wells  nodded  and  David  felt  his  hand 
quickly  seized  and  then  dropped.  He  pretended 
to  appear  at  ease,  but  he  felt  a  lump  rise  in  his 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  55 

\ 

throat  when  he  attempted  to  speak  and  he  did  not 
know  where  to  put  his  hands. 

The  interview  was  short.  Mr.  Stanton  fired 
several  brief  and,  what  seemed  to  David,  irrele- 
vant questions  at  him  and  then  rang  a  bell. 

"Send  Mr.  Keep  to  me,"  he  demanded  of  the 
boy  who  answered  the  summons. 

Mr.  Keep  appeared.  "This  is  my  cousin's  son, 
David  Wells,  of  whom  I  spoke  to  you,  Keep.  He 
is  ready  to  start  work  at  once." 

David  was  led  out  to  a  large  room  of  many 
desks  over  which  dozens  of  clerks  were  bending, 
busily  writing.  Mr.  Keep  showed  him  where  to 
put  his  hat  and  coat  and  then  led  him  to  a  desk 
on  which  were  piled  stacks  of  cards.  His  duties, 
it  was  explained,  consisted  in  arranging  the  cards 
alphabetically  and  then  placing  them  in  a  cabinet 
of  drawers  that  stood  directly  in  back  of  him. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  David  understood  the  re- 
quirements. Mr.  Keep  nodded  approvingly  and 
left  him.  Several  times  during  the  day  he  reap- 
peared, but  David  needed  no  assistance.  At  half- 
past  twelve  he  was  told  he  could  have  an  hour  off 
for  lunch. 

Thus  his  business  career  began  in  Wall  Street  at 
seven  dollars  a  week. 

From  the  very  first  his  work  was  a  tremendous 


56  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

disappointment  to  David.  He  had  expected  ro- 
mance and  discovered  routine;  he  had  looked  for 
adventure  and  found  drudgery.  For  the  life  of 
him,  try  as  he  would,  he  could  take  no  interest  in 
handling  and  sorting  stacks  of  cards  all  day. 
These  cards  contained  the  names  and  addresses  of 
policy  holders,  and  sometimes  David  sat  and  won- 
dered what  the  owners  of  the  names  were  like — he 
would  try  to  picture  people  who  corresponded  to 
the  names.  It  was  while  he  was  in  one  of  these 
reveries  that  Mr.  Stanton,  who,  unknown  to  David, 
had  been  watching  him,  said  sternly:  "You  '11 
have  to  do  better  than  that,  David.  Work  faster. 
Put  some  ginger  into  your  work." 

David  flushed  guiltily.  For  a  few  days  after 
that  he  worked  hard  but  before  long  he  fell  back 
into  his  desultory  ways.  He  dreamed  and  thought 
of  the  time  when  he  would  be  able  to  do  something 
that  really  mattered,  that  was  really  important. 

What  did  interest  him,  however,  was  his  trip 
between  the  City  and  Bay  Eidge  night  and  morn- 
ing and  the  plunge  into  the  crowded  city  streets 
at  noon.  He  liked  to  feel  himself  one  of  a  million 
workers.  He  liked  to  rush  along  with  the  crowds 
and  feel  that  he  had  a  place  here — a  very  tiny  place 
in  the  huge  city. 

Often  he  went  without  lunch  so  that  he  could  go 
down  to  the  Battery  and  walk  along  the  sea  wall 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  57 

and  watch  the  immigrants  arrive,  swarthy  Italians 
with  rings  in  their  ears  and  stolid  powerful  Ger- 
mans with  tight  coats  and  short,  mussy-looking 
trousers,  and  Russian  Jews  with  hope  sparkling 
in  their  eyes;  or  so  that  he  could  explore  South 
Street  and  wander  out  on  the  docks  and  see  the 
cargoes  the  sailing  vessels  brought  in,  wondering 
from  what  strange  countries  they  came.  He  also 
liked  to  walk  along  lower  Washington  Street  and 
gaze  in  the  windows  of  the  Armenian  shops  where 
laces,  gorgeously  embroidered  wraps,  and  weird 
smoking  implements  set  him  dreaming  of  Aladdin 
and  of  the  Thousand  and  One  Tales ;  occasionally 
he  followed  the  crooked  windings  of  Pearl  Street 
and  pretended  to  identify  the  old,  gable-roofed 
buildings  as  belonging  to  worthies  of  New  Am- 
sterdam— in  which  of  course,  he  knew  he  was 
wrong,  but  would  not  admit  it. 

Meanwhile  the  card  sorting  went  on  in  a  lamen- 
table manner.  The  world  was  so  full  of  wonder, 
and  cards  bore  such  a  meager  relation  to  it  all. 
David  hungered  for  the  day  when  he  could  do  big 
things  in  business.  Then  he  told  himself  he  would 
be  able  to  prove  his  value.  But  now  there  was  the 
tediousness  of  waiting.  .  .  . 

When  the  first  of  the  year  arrived  David  found 
to  his  intense  surprise  and  delight  that  his  salary 
was  raised  to  ten  dollars  a  week ;  also  he  was  pro- 


58  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

moted  from  sorting  cards  to  the  bookkeeper's  desk 
where  he  made  various  entries  regarding  policy 
holders  in  a  large  book  with  a  red  leather  cover. 

At  first,  he  was  interested  in  the  new  work,  but 
eventually  it  became  as  monotonous  as  the  card- 
sorting. 

A  year  later  his  salary  was  again  raised  but  he 
was  still  kept  at  the  high  desk,  writing  the  same 
things  over  and  over  in  another  large  book  with  a 
red  leather  cover.  The  only  advantage  of  the 
endless  repetition  was  that  it  became  so  mechani- 
cal he  did  not  have  to  think  of  it.  He  could  send 
his  thoughts  where  he  willed — he  could  dream  to 
his  heart's  content. 

Then  came  the  spring  again.  His  father  had 
been  dead  a  year  and  a  half,  and  he  had  been  going 
to  business  all  that  time  with  the  woeful  progress 
shown.  But  the  year  and  a  half  had  meant  great 
progress  in  other  ways  than  in  business. 

The  slim  boy  was  becoming  a  man;  his  shoul- 
ders and  chest  were  broadening,  expanding. 
Sometimes,  standing  in  front  of  the  mirror  of  his 
little  room,  drawing  in  deep  breaths,  through  the 
open  window,  as  a  physical  culture  magazine  di- 
rected, he  wondered  boastfully  if  his  strength 
were  equal  to  his  father's.  He  began,  too,  to  pay 
attention  to  his  personal  appearance,  to  select  his 
scarfs  with  care,  to  wear  his  clothes  jauntily,  to 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  59 

see  that  his  shoes  were  always  well  polished.  He 
even  went  so  far  as  to  invest  two  months '  savings 
in  a  suit  at  Brokaw  Brothers,  a  shop  which  a  com- 
panion at  the  office  assured  him  was  the  only  place 
in  town  for  a  young  fellow  to  buy  his  clothes. 
Mrs.  Wells'  horror  at  his  extravagance  was  leav- 
ened by  her  pride  in  his  gentility.  She  told  him 
once  that  he  greatly  resembled  her  father.  That 
pleased  him  immensely,  for  Mrs.  Wells  had  a 
daguerreotype  of  her  father  which  showed  a 
proud,  eager  face  above  a  black  silk  stock  and  a 
snowy  frill  of  shirt. 

So  David,  after  these  months  in  the  City,  was  on 
the  surface  no  longer  the  raw  youth.  The  stamp 
of  the  town  was  upon  him.  While  underneath 
there  was  still  the  mass  of  guileless  questionings, 
the  dreams,  and  the  fancies,  these,  too,  were  pass- 
ing. The  knowledge  that  lies  in  wait  in  the  City 
streets  was  reaching  out  for  him,  the  traps  that 
life  sets  for  the  unwary  were  awaiting  him. 

He  remembered  the  shock  one  night  when  walk- 
ing along  a  West  Side  street;  he  at  last  realized 
what  a  woman  who  spoke  to  him  wanted.  When 
she  stopped  him  he  thought  she  was  going  to  ask 
to  be  directed  somewhere  .  .  .  and  he  had  bent  an 
attentive  ear.  He  had  hardly  known  before  that 
such  things  existed  ...  of  course  he  had  realized 
it  vaguely  .  .  .  but  not  in  that  way — that  sordid, 


60  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

commonplace,  horrible  way.  He  shook  his  head 
at  her  and  passed  on  with  a  curious  burning  sensa- 
tion in  his  throat ;  he  walked  for  blocks  and  blocks 
before  the  grip  the  thing  had  taken  on  him  van- 
ished. Afterwards  he  had  guarded  against  such 
encounters  but  all  the  time  he  was  rilled  with  a 
wild  curiosity  and  a  strange  dread. 

Yes,  David  changed  in  that  year  and  a  half — 
changed  greatly. 

One  Saturday  afternoon  in  May  when  the  office 
force  of  the  Inland  Casualty  Company  was 
granted  a  half -holiday,  David  journeyed  home, 
ate  his  lunch,  and  then  calling  Pip,  started  to 
walk  along  the  Shore  Road. 

They  passed  the  white  house  and  David  saw  the 
windows  were  open  and  there  was  an  air  of  ex- 
pectancy about  the  place;  people  were  moving 
down  for  the  summer.  Again  David  thrilled — 
perhaps  now,  at  last,  it  was  the  Davenports  again. 
But  he  had  been  disappointed  too  often  to  watch 
and  wait. 

He  walked  down  the  road  farther  and  stood 
leaning  on  the  fence  that  serves  as  a  guard  rail 
to  prevent  horses  going  over  the  cliff  which  falls 
steeply  from  the  road  at  this  point.  It  was  a 
clear  day — the  sky  showed  a  few  tumbled  clouds 
that  faintly  suggested  the  pinnacles  and  roofs  of 
a  fairy  city;  the  water  sparkled,  the  beach  lay 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  61 

like  a  silver  crescent  in  the  sun.  David  gazed  at 
the  water  and  thought  of  Nora  and  of  business  and 
of  how  bitterly  disappointed  he  was  in  it  and  of 
his  Great  Dream  and  of  life  and  of  the  women 
he  passed  in  the  street — of  all  of  these  things  he 
thought  in  a  muddled,  fragmentary  way. 

Suddenly  he  was  aroused  by  a  voice  saying  be- 
tween laughter  and  tears,  " David,  hello! — and 
Pip,  too!  I  was  just  coming  down  to  look  for 
you!  Oh,  dear  old  Pip,  but  aren't  you  fat!" 

David  swung  around  with  a  sob  in  his  throat. 

It  was  Nora. 


CHAPTER  VI 

'TV  TOW  first,"  said  Nora,  perceiving  instantly 
JL II  that  David  was  shaken  and  husky-voiced 
and  uncomfortable  at  her  sudden  appearance; 
"now  first,"  she  said,  striving  to  put  him  at  his 
ease,  "let  's  look  each  other  over  carefully  and  see 
just  how  much  we  Ve  changed. ' ' 

"You  're  changed  entirely!"  cried  David  after 
a  minute  or  two,  during  which  he  took  in  all  the 
charm  and  loveliness  of  her,  the  soft  dark  hair 
braided  around  her  head,  the  gray  eyes  sparkling 
and  yet  a  little  wistful,  the  firm  red  lips.  * '  You  're 
not  at  all  as  I  remember  you.  You  're  entirely 
grownup." 

"Well,  for  that  matter,  you  're  grown  up,  too, 
David.  But  somehow  you  haven't  changed;  I  'd 
have  known  you  anywhere. ' ' 

"Are  you  down  for  the  summer!" 

Nora  nodded;  her  face  clouded  for  an  instant. 
"Yes,  mother  and  father  and  Colonel  Craig  de- 
cided we  might  as  well  come  down  here  again. 
It  's  so  convenient  to  the  City.  We  Ve  been  all 
over  creation  since  that  summer,  David — we  went 

62 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  63 

to  Europe  two  years  ago.  Oh,  I  'm  quite  finished 
now — I  'm  ready  for  society — "  a  shadow  again 
crossed  her  face — "the  sort  of  society  we  get." 

"Nora,  I  've  started  in  business,"  said  David. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad!"  exclaimed  Nora.  She 
made  him  tell  her  all  about  it.  It  started  with 
his  father's  death.  "I  always  loved  him — he  was 
so — so  real/'  put  in  Nora. 

They  sat  down  on  the  grass  on  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  with  Pip  between  them,  his  head  cocked  ap- 
preciatively as  Nora  fondled  his  ears.  David  in 
his  recital  of  his  business  career  varnished  mat- 
ters over  a  trifle.  His  vanity  would  not  permit 
him  to  tell  the  exact  truth.  But  soon  they  had 
exhausted  business  and  they  commenced  talking 
of  the  long  summer  of  their  childhood — the  sum- 
mer which  each  decided  was  the  happiest  of  their 
lives. 

"What  a  wild  little  beast  I  was,"  said  Nora. 
"I  don't  think  I've  improved  much;  of  course 
naturally  I  'm  more  self-possessed  and  quiet  and 
very  young  ladylike,  but  beneath  it  there  's  the 
same  old  independence,  and  the  running  and  rush- 
ing and  climbing  and  shouting.  How  we  used 
to  race  around — do  you  remember  the  raft?  And 
how  we  used  to  make  up  stories  1? ' ' 

"Don't  you  still  make  them  up?"  he  asked 
anxiously. 


64  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"Yes,  I  do,"  she  admitted,  "but  it  is  n't  as  much 
fun  as  it  once  was." 

"Yes,  it  is.  I  know.  The  only  difference  is 
it 's  another  kind  of  making  believe — it  's  bigger ; 
it  means  more. ' ' 

She  gave  him  a  quick  glance.  "Oh,  David, 
you  're  such  a  dear — such  a  silly  old  kind  of  a 
dear.  And  after  the  people  I  Ve  been  thrown 
with — women  who  think  of  nothing  but  men,  and 
men  who — oh,  just  the  rottenest  old  set  of  men. 
.  .  .  Why,  David,  do  you  know  it  might  be  only 
yesterday  that  we  sat  here  together  as  children 
and  wondered  about  the  ships  that  sailed  by  and 
threw  stones  at  bottles  in  the  water  and  lay  back 
on  the  grass  and  made  up  stories  about  the  clouds 
...  I  feel  I  know  you  just  as  well. ' ' 

He  looked  at  her  a  little  shyly.  "At  first  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  be  different,"  he  said, 
"you  look  so — so  elegant  and  proud;  I  was  aw- 
fully afraid,  Nora,  but  when  you  began  to  talk — it 
was  all  right — it  was  just  all  right.  Was  n't  it, 
Pippins?" 

Pip  wagged  his  tail  enthusiastically — it  cer- 
tainly appeared  perfectly  all  right  to  him.  .  .  . 

They  saw  each  other  frequently  during  the  sum- 
mer days  that  followed,  and  they  tried  to  pretend 
they  were  on  the  same  footing  they  had  been  as 
children  but  inipalpably,  inexorably  walking  like 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  65 

a  ghost  between  them,  shadowy  but  distinct,  was 
the  change  the  years  had  brought  about.  Nora 
was  no  longer  a  child  but  a  woman  and  David  was 
no  longer  a  child  but  a  man.  They  were  not  on 
the  same  footing  toward  each  other  and  even 
while  they  pretended  they  knew  they  were  not. 
The  old  freedom  of  glance  and  of  action  was  gone. 
Yet  for  a  time  they  were  successful  in  keeping 
up  the  pretense. 

Among  the  guests  that  now  came  to  the  Daven- 
port house  were  younger  men  who  came  to  see 
Nora.  There  was  one  man  especially  but  he  was 
not  so  young.  David  met  Nora  walking  with  him 
one  day  on  the  Shore  Eoad  and  he  was  introduced 
to  him.  He  was  a  Mr.  Walter  Bradford.  David 
felt  quite  awkward  before  him.  He  was  so 
splendidly  dressed  and  carried  such  an  air  of  dis- 
tinction. He  had  a  heavy,  handsome  face  with  a 
crisp  blond  mustache  turned  up  at  the  ends  and 
large,  heavy-lidded  eyes,  and  his  deep  voice  gave 
utterance  to  his  words  so  crisply,  so  authorita- 
tively. 

David  saw  Nora  with  him  often.  He  saw  them 
riding  together,  walking  together,  and  one  day 
when  he  stayed  home  from  business  with  a  cold, 
he  heard  their  voices  below,  and  then  later  from 
his  window  saw  them  far  out  on  the  bay.  Mr. 
Bradford  was  rowing  and  Nora  was  sitting  quite 


66  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

still  in  the  boat,  her  hands  folded,  evidently  listen- 
ing to  him.  Occasionally  he  stopped  rowing  and 
rested  on  his  oars,  leaned  towards  her.  .  .  . 
David's  paper  card  house  of  pretense  fell  to 
pieces;  he  knew  from  that  moment  that  he  loved 
Nora  with  a  love  that  was  entirely  different  from 
his  childhood  love ;  it  was  friendship,  perhaps,  but 
it  was  friendship  that  flamed  and  desired.  With 
it  was  a  great  humility — he  knew  that  he  had  no 
right  ever  to  speak  to  Nora  of  his  love — that  she 
would  never  listen  to  him. 

He  could  no  longer  bear  the  sight  of  her  out 
there  with  the  other  man.  He  threw  himself  back 
in  the  bed  and  lay  glowering  up  at  the  ceiling  with 
its  white  paper  silvered  with  tiny  stars.  With 
all  the  ardor  of  his  awakened  love  he  wished  that 
he  were  a  child  again,  with  a  child's  easily  satis- 
fied wants  and  desires. 

The  next  time  he  met  Nora  he  asked  her  to  go 
rowing  with  him. 

"Any  time  you  ask  me,"  she  answered  readily. 

"We  '11  go  to-morrow  afternoon,  then,"  said 
David,  for  to-morrow  was  Saturday  when  he  had 
his  half  holiday. 

All  this  time  David  was  still  busy  with  his 
Dream — his  Dream  to  do  something  for  his  fellow 
men.  Ever  since  Nora's  return  he  had  been 
awaiting  a  suitable  opportunity  to  tell  her  about 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  67 

it.  During  the  past  winter  he  had  decided  that  he 
might  become  a  poet  and,  night  after  night,  he  had 
sat  in  his  little  room  writing  endless,  formless 
rhymes.  He  tried  to  pack  so  much  of  his  dream 
stuff  into  them  that  they  were  quite  meaningless 
but,  out  of  the  mass  of  them,  he  had  at  last  evolved 
one  which  showed,  he  believed,  something  of  what 
he  was  capable  of  doing.  It  ran  two  full  pages  of 
fool's  cap  and  the  rhymes  at  the  end  of  the  lines 
were  quite  perfect.  It  bore  the  title, '  *  The  World 
and  I,"  and  it  began,  "The  world  is  a  wide,  wide 
plain  and  I  a  spirit  must  slay  to  set  it  free." 

Saturday  afternoon  when  he  and  Nora  went 
rowing  he  took  this  poem  with  him.  When  they 
were  some  distance  from  the  shore  he  let  the  boat 
rest  in  the  current,  and  after  explaining  the 
Dream  to  Nora  he  read  her  what  he  had  written. 

But  she  took  the  papers  from  him,  tore  them 
in  half,  and  threw  them  into  the  water.  "David, 
that's  rot!"  she  cried.  "You're  becoming 
obsessed  with  that  idea.  You  don't  want  dreams. 
You  want  life.  There  's  nothing  in  that — nothing 
to  make  men  happy.  It  's  vague,  it  's  formless, 
it  's  chaotic.  Forgive  me!  but  I  can't  let  you  go 
on  in  that  way;  you  ought  to  see  the  reality,  not 
the  dream." 

David  was  dumbfounded,  embittered.  He 
watched  his  beloved  poem  over  which  he  had 


68  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

toiled  for  weeks,  the  only  fruit  of  his  years  of 
dreams,  go  floating  away  on  the  waters.  At  first 
he  was  going  to  jump  after  it  and  rescue  it.  But 
Nora's  words  arrested  him.  Finally  he  turned  to 
her  and  said  in  a  colorless  voice:  ''It  was  only 
roughly  done.  It  did  n  't  give  you  any  idea  of  what 
I  'm  going  to  do — do  you  hear?  Of  what  I  'm 
going  to  do  some  day,  Nora!" 

Nora  shook  her  head.  "I  don't  know,  David," 
she  said.  ''You  're  trying  to  get  at  things  back- 
wards. After  you  've  worked  and  worked  and 
lived  and  loved  and  suffered — especially  after 
you  Ve  suffered — then  maybe  you  can  put  it  into 
form.  But  now — you  have  n't  lived — you  have  n't 
worked — you  haven't  suffered — your  whole  life 
has  been  a  dream ! ' ' 

"How  do  you  understand  these  things?"  he 
asked  incredulously. 

Nora  hesitated.  "I  don't  know,  David.  They 
seem  to  come  to  a  woman  before  they  do  to  a  man. 
It  just  seems  to  be  instinct  with  me.  I  see  you 
wrapped  up  in  this  Dream  of  yours  and  the  only 
thing  that  will  bring  you  out  of  it  is  suffering. 
Oh,  I  see  you  broken,  David — broken  by  suffering, 
but  then  after  that  I  see  you  live ! ' ' 

David  picked  up  the  oars  and  rowed  on,  puzzling 
over  Nora's  words.  He  did  not  comprehend 
them  entirely.  He  had  not  worked  nor  lived  nor 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  69 

suffered.  But  he  loved !  He  knew  that  now.  He 
knew  it  with  all  his  heart  and  soul  and  body. 
And  yet  he  could  not  tell  Nora  that  he  loved  her. 
Perhaps  that  was  how  he  was  going  to  suffer. 
He  wondered  if  she  loved  the  man  Bradford. 
Suddenly  the  words  rose  to  his  lips  despite  him- 
self, and  leaning  forward  he  threw  them  at  her 
passionately : 

"Are  you  in  love  with  Bradford?" 

Nora  did  not  answer  immediately.  She  flushed 
and  was  vividly  conscious  of  her  flush.  "He  's 
married, ' '  she  said  presently. 

David  said  nothing  and  after  a  silence,  she 
asked,  "Why?" 

"You  seem  to  be  fond  of  him,"  muttered  David, 
bending  over  the  oars  and  sending  the  boat  for- 
ward with  a  jump. 

Nora  hesitated ;  then,  without  looking  at  him  she 
began  quietly,  "I  'm  going  to  be  frank  with  you, 
David.  I  've  learned  a  lot  the  last  few  years.  I 
can't  help  it  if  I  've  become  a  little  cynical  and 
hard.  You  know  the  men  and  women  who  come 
to  our  house  are  not — very  respectable.  They  're 
a  gay,  light-hearted  lot.  Some  are  clever  and  all 
that,  but  each  of  them  has — a  flaw.  They  're  not 
first  class.  I  've  become  used  to  them.  But  one 
— always  has  to  be  on  one's  guard." 

David  looked  at  her  in  surprise.    He  did  not 


70  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

know  where  her  words  were  leading,  and  what 
she  said  was  in  itself  a  surprise.  The  Davenports 
had  always  moved  in  a  society  so  far  above  any- 
thing he  had  ever  known  that  he  thought  criticism 
impossible. 

Nora  continued:  "I  've  always  thought  of  you 
as  you  were  that  summer,  David — oh,  it  was  fool- 
ish of  me.  You  had  to  change,  to  become  a  man. 
But  I  Ve  always  thought  of  you  as  a  friend — a 
loyal  old  friend.  I  Ve  always  liked  to  think  I 
could  bank  upon  you.  But  now,  you  too  are 
changing — even  more — than  you  ought.  You  're 
jealous.  I  saw  it  in  the  way  you  spoke  about  Mr. 
Bradford.  Oh,  I  want  you  as  a  friend — with  all 
that  other  sort  of  thing  left  out.  Don't — don't 
you  think  you  can  be  ? " 

They  gazed  at  each  other  steadily  for  several 
seconds — tears  of  whose  presence  they  were  un- 
conscious stood  in  their  eyes.  At  last  David 
dropped  his  gaze.  ' '  I  think  I  can,  Nora, ' '  he  said. 

"Let  's  shake  on  it." 

They  shook  hands  while  the  boat  rocked;  they 
shook  hands  seriously,  unsmilingly.  Then  David 
rowed  back  to  the  shore. 

And  during  the  rest  of  that  summer,  during 
their  many  walks  in  which  they  discussed  books 
and  life  and  each  other  with  remarkable  freedom, 
David  did  not  betray  by  word  or  glance  that  he 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  71 

loved  Nora  the  more  with  every  day  of  his  life. 

But  betrayal  came.  It  thrust  itself  upon  them 
the  day  in  September  when  they  took  their  long 
swim  together  and  when  David,  in  an  unguarded 
moment,  let  his  heart  speak. 

They  had  planned  and  prepared  for  this  swim 
all  summer.  Midway  between  the  Bay  Ridge  and 
Staten  Island  shores  there  is  a  submerged  rock, 
and  by  the  rock  a  bell-buoy  swings.  David  made 
a  point  of  swimming  out  there  once  each  summer. 
When  he  told  Nora  about  it  she  insisted  that  she 
was  going  to  swim  with  him  that  year.  And  the 
preparation  and  the  practising  followed. 

Finally  the  Sunday  morning  they  had  decided 
upon  arrived. 

It  was  six  o'clock.  The  sun  had  already  been 
up  for  some  time.  It  threw  long,  blue  shadows 
on  the  beach  and  the  air  sang  of  morning.  The 
sea  lay  before  them  calmer  than  they  had  ever 
seen  it  before,  they  thought.  It  looked  cool,  pale 
green  and  so  softly  inviting  that  it  seemed  to  be 
extending  caressing  arms  to  them. 

They  walked  down  silent  to  the  water's  edge; 
the  tide  was  going  out.  Nora  slipped  off  her 
cloak  and  stood  forth  in  her  bathing  suit,  laugh- 
ing, shaking  her  head  in  the  morning  breeze. 
Youth  and  the  morning,  the  buoyant  air  and  the 
sunlight,  centered  in  her. 


72  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"It 's  a  long  swim,  is  n't  it,  David?"  she  asked, 
shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand  and  peering  across 
the  water  to  where  the  bell-buoy  rocked,  hardly 
visible  from  here. 

He  nodded  and  looked  at  her  questioningly ;  he 
thought  possibly  she  was  going  to  flunk. 

"Well,  then  off  comes  this  idiotic  skirt,"  she 
said.  She  unfastened  it  and  with  a  deft  throw 
landed  it  back  on  the  beach  with  her  cloak.  Then 
she  threw  back  her  head,  raised  her  arms  and  ran 
into  the  water  like  a  spirit  released. 

"Come  on,  David,"  she  called,  already  in  water 
up  to  her  shoulders.  "Come  on!  It  's  just  right. 
We  '11  have  to  swim  fast  to  keep  warm." 

David  plunged  into  the  water  after  her.  They 
were  off!  Their  long  strokes  sent  them  forward 
rapidly;  their  hands  splashed  the  water  into  pale 
green  bubbles  and  they  left  little  ripples  of  foam 
behind  them.  They  swam  close  together,  Nora 
on  her  right  side,  David  on  his  left ;  they  did  not 
talk,  but  occasionally  smiled  into  each  other's 
faces. 

Midway  Nora  changed  from  the  side  to  a  breast 
stroke.  * '  Tired  I ' '  asked  David. 

She  shook  her  head,  swam  a  short  distance  on 
her  back,  and  then,  rested,  struck  out  again  with 
the  long  over-hand  stroke  that  David  had  taught 
her. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  73 

At  last  they  reached  the  buoy  and  climbed  upon 
it.  It  had  a  ledge  running  around  it  on  which 
they  sat,  too  winded  to  talk  at  first.  They  swung 
their  legs  to  and  fro  over  the  side ;  the  buoy  rocked 
with  the  waves  at  intervals,  the  deep-toned  bell 
rang  over  their  heads,  startlingly,  with  a  weird 
sound.  The  shore  hung  low  in  the  distance ;  water 
stretched  its  blue  and  green  valleys  all  around 
them. 

' '  A  few  years  ago  we  'd  now  be  making  believe 
we  were  shipwrecked  on  a  desert  island,"  said 
Nora. 

"If  we  only  were!"  exclaimed  David. 

Nora  pretended  she  had  not  heard.  Her  hair 
had  partly  slipped  down  from  beneath  her  crimson 
bathing  cap  and  fell  around  her  face.  She  took 
off  the  cap  and  began  to  wind  her  hair  tightly 
around  her  head  again.  She  caught  David  eyeing 
her,  so  she  asked,  smiling,  "Well?" 

"You  look  so — so  funny,  Nora — so  absurd.  I  'd 
like  to  gather  you  up  in  my  arms  and  swim  away 
with  you  forever." 

Nora  immediately  sobered.  "Now,  David!" 
she  said.  "You  can't  begin  that;  you  know  you 
can't.  Eemember  our  bargain.  You  '11  spoil  it 
all." 

But  as  she  sat  there  still  swinging  her  legs,  her 
hands  clasping  the  edge  of  the  platform  on  which 


74  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

they  sat,  her  lips  parted,  and  smiling  in  a  secret 
little  fashion  to  herself,  her  slim  body  outlined  in 
the  black  clinging  suit,  David  felt  all  his  resolves 
and  promises,  all  his  carefully  erected  barriers,  his 
humility  and  pride,  swept  away  by  an  irresistible 
desire  to  touch  her,  to  hold  her  in  his  arms,  to 
press  his  lips  against  hers.  '  *  Nora ! "  he  cried, ' '  I 
love  you!  I  can't  help  it!  It  's  no  use  pretend- 
ing— I  know  now  it  is  n't.  I  want  you  to  be  my 
wife.  Of  course  we  're  awfully  young.  But,  oh 
Lord,  how  I  '11  work  for  you,  Nora.  I  '11  stop 
dreaming.  I  '11  give  you  just  as  good  a  home  as 
you  have  now." 

Nora  gave  him  a  quick  glance;  her  eyes  were 
full  of  reproach  and  of  pity.  "Why  did  you  say 
this  now,  David?"  she  cried.  "Why  now  of  all 
times!  I  didn't  want  this  from  you.  You  were 
to  be  my  friend — my  bully  good  friend — that  's  all 
— and  it  was  enough.  It  is  just  what  I  needed — 
just  what  I  needed  now  of  all  times. ' ' 

David's  thoughts  flashed  to  Mr.  Bradford.  He 
didn't  know  why  he  thought  of  him  at  that 
moment,  but  there  he  was  with  his  handsome, 
tanned  face  and  his  large,  heavy  eyes. 

"I  'm  sorry  I  said  anything,  Nora ;  I  'm  awfully 
sorry.  I  meant  to  stick  to  our  bargain.  I  've 
tried.  But  somehow  things  just  gave  way  with 
me." 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  75 

Nora  arose  to  her  feet.  She  held  out  her  hand 
to  David.  "Here,  I  'm  going  to  dive.  Steady 
me." 

When  the  next  wave  came  along  she  plunged  in- 
to its  green  depths  and  David  was  obliged  to  fol- 
low. 

They  swam  silently  back  to  the  shore,  more  tired 
in  body  and  soul  than  when  they  raced  so  gaily  out 
into  the  morning.  Now  the  sun  was  high  and 
shone  brazenly  on  the  waters.  Nora  fagged  to- 
ward the  end ;  her  overhand  stroke  with  which  she 
bravely  started  out  failed  her  and  she  swam  on 
her  back,  and  then  with  the  old  primitive  breast 
stroke.  David  offered  her  assistance,  but  she 
shut  her  lips  tightly,  shook  her  head,  and  labored 
on.  At  last  their  feet  touched  bottom,  and  Nora 
staggered  up  the  beach  and  fell  flat  on  the  dry 
sand  and  lay  there  panting  for  a  few  minutes 
while  David  ran  for  her  cape,  skirt,  and  sandals. 

Presently  she  stood  up  and  put  them  on.  Then 
she  smiled.  ' ' Well,  I  did  it,  did n 't  I,  David ?' '  she 
said,  giving  him  her  hand.  "No,  please  don't 
walk  up  with  me.  I  'd  rather  go  alone." 

During  the  rest  of  that  month  he  saw  but  little 
of  her.  He  heard  indirectly  that  the  Davenports 
had  decided  to  stay  in  Bay  Eidge  until  after 
Thanksgiving  Day.  But  he  saw  Nora  herself  only 
a  few  times  on  the  Shore  Eoad,  and  then  all  he 


76  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

got  from  her  was  a  brief  nod  and  a  smile.  Some- 
times he  wondered  bitterly  if  she  was  not  pur- 
posely avoiding  him.  The  bitterness  was  no  less 
keen  because  he  knew  the  reason  why. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THEN  came  that  wild  and  eventful  November 
night  which  was  to  remain  vivid  in  David's 
memory  all  his  life! 

He  looked  out  of  the  door  after  helping  his 
mother  clear  away  the  supper  dishes.  There  was 
a  high,  wet  wind  blowing  and  the  waves  howled 
like  beasts  of  prey.  At  first  he  decided  to  put  on 
his  boots  and  oilskin  and  tramp  along  the  beach 
as  he  often  did  in  such  weather,  but  the  driftwood 
in  the  open  fireplace  beckoned  invitingly.  So  he 
drew  one  of  Stevenson's  romances  from  the  shelf 
on  which  he  kept  his  few  books  and  throwing  him- 
self into  a  big  chair  before  the  fire  he  read  for 
an  hour  or  two.  But  even  the  charm  of  "Prince 
Otto"  could  not  keep  him  awake  after  ten  o'clock. 
He  kissed  his  mother  good  night  and  went  to  bed. 

Upstairs  in  his  little  room  the  fury  of  the  night 
was  more  evident.  His  window  was  shaken  as  if 
the  wind  would  tear  it  from  its  frame.  But  a 
storm  was  too  familiar  to  David  to  keep  him  from 
slumber  long.  .  .  . 

It  was  almost  two  hours  later  that  he  was 

77 


78  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

aroused  by  noises  so  persistent  and  so  unusual 
that  they  made  themselves  heard  beneath  the  roar 
of  the  wind  and  the  thunder  of  the  waves.  He 
sat  up.  Pebbles,  one  after  another,  were  steadily 
hitting  the  pane  of  his  window.  He  jumped  from 
the  bed  and  looked  out.  Dimly  he  could  make  out 
a  cloaked  figure  standing  below  and  at  once  he 
knew  it  was  Nora. 

He  opened  the  window  slightly  and  all  the 
storm  seemed  to  invade  the  room  but  he  heard  her 
call,  "I  must  see  you,  David." 

He  pulled  on  his  shoes,  slipped  on  his  coat  and 
trousers  and  ran  downstairs  to  the  door.  Nora 
was  already  awaiting  him.  She  entered  quickly, 
walked  past  him  without  looking  at  him,  and  went 
over  to  the  fireplace,  where  she  stood  gazing  down 
into  the  dying  embers  of  the  blaze. 

"I  want  to  talk  with  you  alone,  David/'  she 
said  presently,  without  turning.  "Where  is  your 
mother?" 

"In  bed  long  ago.     She  won't  wake  up." 

Nora  raised  her  head  and  he  saw  her  face.  She 
was  not  the  Nora  he  knew.  Something  had 
changed  her  terribly.  Her  eyes  were  large  and 
brilliant,  they  were  like  the  eyes  of  a  person  sud- 
denly shot  from  darkness  into  a  brilliantly  lighted 
room ;  there  was  something  hectic  and  feverish  in 
her  entire  appearance,  in  her  agitated  movements, 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  79 

in  the  way  her  fingers  plucked  at  her  coat.  She 
could  not  be  quiet.  It  was  as  if  a  whip  were  on 
her  shoulders,  a  whip  that  kept  her  moving  up 
and  down  the  room  with  short,  quick  steps. 
Once  she  threw  herself  into  the  large  chair  but 
immediately  she  was  up  pacing  again.  And  David 
thought  of  a  wounded  white  gull  he  had  picked 
up  on  the  beach  once;  he  had  imprisoned  it  in  a 
crate  but  it  had  beaten  its  wings  so  madly  against 
the  bars  that  in  order  to  save  its  life  he  had  been 
forced  to  free  it. 

David  did  not  speak  to  Nora.  He  did  not  know 
what  to  say.  There  were  no  prison  bars  he  could 
let  down  for  her.  Yet  he  saw  that  she  was  in 
trouble,  trouble  as  desperate  as  the  wounded 
gull's. 

Finally  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  and  said  in  a 
voice  so  even  and  subdued  that  it  seemed  utterly 
out  of  harmony  with  her  appearance,  '  *  Do  you  re- 
member when,  years  ago,  the  other  children  were 
not  permitted  to  play  with  me?" 

He  nodded. 

"I  Ve  just  found  out  why." 

But  David  could  not  find  the  words  to  question 
her. 

"My  mother  is — "  Nora  checked  herself  so 
abruptly  it  seemed  as  if  she  had  bitten  off  the  rest 
of  that  sentence;  in  a  minute  she  continued, 


80  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"Colonel  Craig  is  my  mother's  lover.  I  just 
found  it  out  yesterday — I  found  it  out  in  the  most 
horrible  way.  It  's — killed  me,  David.  It  's 
killed  the  Nora  that  was  me  and  left  some 
one  else,  some  one  I  don't  understand." — Her 
two  hands  flew  to  her  throat  and  ripped  the  fas- 
tenings of  her  cloak  apart  so  that  her  full,  round 
throat  was  revealed. — "David,  I  'm  on  the  rocks. 
I  'm  going  to  pieces." 

"Nora,  dear!"  cried  David — and  that  was  all  he 
said,  although  he  wanted  so  much  to  say  more ;  he 
wanted  to  go  to  her  and  soften  her ;  to  erase  this 
new  and  appalling  hardness  that  had  come  over 
her;  he  wanted  to  caress  her,  to  banish  the  open 
misery  that  stared  forth  from  the  pallor  of  her 
face.  And  he  thought,  "Oh,  dear  God,  if  you  '11 
only  help  me  to  make  her  weep!"  But  deeper 
than  his  desire  to  do  these  things  was  the  knowl- 
edge that  he  must  do  none  of  them ;  that  if  he  did 
she  would  leave  him  as  abruptly  as  she  had  come. 

"I  don't  understand  why  I  didn't  see  it  long 
ago,"  Nora  continued,  in  that  unnaturally  calm 
and  even  voice.  "I  suppose  everybody  in  our 
crowd,  in  our  rotten,  fast  crowd,  knew  it.  He  's 
been  paying  for  everything,  David.  Everything 
I  own,  everything  I  have,  my  clothes,  my  educa- 
tion, all  from  the  man  who — "  She  turned  away 
again  and  now  she  threw  back  her  head  and,  fever- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  81 

ishly,  impatiently,  pushed  back  the  strands  of  dark 
hair  that  fell  over  her  forehead.  * '  You  know  what 
I  'm  like,  David.  You  know  how  I  've  always 
hated  things  of  that  sort  and  how  I  've  faced 
things  with  courage,  held  up  my  head  because  I 
thought  I  was  so  far  out  of  that — muck !  All  the 
time  this  was  waiting  for  me,  waiting  to  pull  me 
down  into  the  mud ! ' '  She  extended  her  arms  with 
the  hands,  palms  down  on  either  side  of  her;  she 
closed  her  eyes  and  shuddered. 

David  found  his  reluctant  tongue.  "It  does  n't 
matter  to  you,  Nora,  it  's  not  your  fault.  You  can 
leave  and  go  out  and  make  your  own  life." 

"Yes!"  said  Nora,  "I  can!" 

He  looked  at  her,  alarmed.  What  did  she  mean? 
"You  are  going  to  leave?"  was  torn  from  him. 

"To-night." 

"How?" 

"I  am  going  with  Walter  Bradford." 

"But  he  's  married?" 

"What  difference  does  that  make  to  me — now?" 

"Nora,  you  can't  do  this !"  cried  David.  "You 
don't  know  what  you  're  saying.  My  God,  Nora, 
you  can't!" 

"I  must  get  away  from  home,"  she  said  quietly. 
"Don't  imagine  I  haven't  thought  it  all  out, 
David.  I  've  wept  over  it,  wept  as  one  weeps  but 
once  in  a  lifetime" —  Her  voice  rose  a  little — 


82  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

" Don't  you  see  I  'm  mad  to  get  away?  Where 
else  can  I  go?  Don't  you  see  there  's  nothing  else 
for  me  to  do  ?  I  Ve  never  been  taught  to  support 
myself.  I  've  never  been  taught  to  do  anything 
else  than  live  with  a  man,  earn  my  living  in  that 
way.  What  does  it  matter  if  I  go  as  wife  or 
mistress?  What  's  the  difference?  There  's  no 
other  way  for  me.  And  what  does  it  matter  what 
becomes  of  me  now?  I  'm  outside  the  pale.  I  am 
— my  mother 's  child. ' ' 

* '  But  your  pride  ? ' ' 

"My  pride!"  she  echoed  bitterly  and,  for  the 
first  time,  David  realized  what  her  suffering  had 
been. 

He  went  over  and  stood  beside  her.  "  There  is 
something  else — another  way.  You  can  come  here 
and  live  with  us,  with  my  mother  and  myself. 
You  can  learn  to  do  something  for  yourself.  You 
can  learn  to  become  independent. ' ' 

For  a  moment  she  hesitated.  "If  only  you 
hadn't  said  that  you  loved — "  she  began  and 
stopped,  arrested  at  the  grief,  the  racked,  quiver- 
ing grief  of  his  face. 

"Nora,  don't  say  that!"  he  cried.  "I  couldn't 
help  loving  you,  but  don't  say  it  's  helped  bring 
this  about.  I  won't  love  you  any  more.  I  '11 
strip  this  love  from  me ;  I  '11  whip  it  out  of  my- 
self. I  '11  swear  that  you  '11  never  see  it  again. ' ' 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  83 

uBut  after  all,"  she  said  a  little  wearily, 
"we  're  forgetting  the  most  important  thing  of 
all." 

"What  is  that?" 

1 1  That  I  love  Walter  Bradford  and  that  he  loves 
me." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Outside  the  Novem- 
ber wind  blustered  and  splashed  the  window  with 
raindrops  that  glistened  as  they  ran  down  the 
panes;  a  bedraggled  branch  of  evergreen  kept 
beating  with  weary  insistence  against  the  shutter ; 
far  out  on  the  bay  they  could  hear  the  sirens  blow- 
ing, and  near  by  the  anger  of  the  waves  dashing 
on  the  beach  where  they  had  played  as  children. 

1 '  I  am  going,  David, ' '  said  Nora  at  last,  wrap- 
ping her  cloak  around  her. 

"You  are  going  with  him  to-night?" 

"The  carriage  will  be  up  on  the  cliff  at  twelve. 
My  bag  is  already  there  beside  the  road.  I  had 
to  tell  you  before  I  went,  David.  I  had  to  stand 
right  with  you  if  with  no  one  else." 

David  slipped  across  to  the  door,  locked  it,  and 
pulled  out  the  key.  "I  am  going  to  keep  you  here 
till  dawn,"  he  announced. 

A  smile  trembled  on  Nora's  lips;  for  the  first 
time  her  face  softened  and  tears  visited  her  eyes. 
She  went  over  to  the  chair  he  had  taken  and  put 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "Oh,  David,  dear  old 


84  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

David,"  she  murmured.  " Don't  you  see  that 
isn't  the  way  to  remedy  it?  Don't  you  see  that 
I  Ve  got  to  work  this  out  for  myself  in  my  own 
way?  I  'm  no  longer  a  child  but  a  woman,  and  I 
can't  be  locked  in  like  a  child.  It  is  n't  so  simple, 
so  wonderfully  simple  as  all  that,  David.  You  can 
lock  my  body  in,  but  who  holds  the  key  of  my 
soul?  It  's  my  soul  that  is  going  out  to-night, 
David,  out  into  the  wind  and  the  rain.  It 's  going 
to  seek  light  again,  sunshine  again.  Pray  for  it, 
David,  but  don't  try  to  imprison  it." 

David  sank  into  the  depths  of  his  chair.  He 
leaned  over,  his  face  buried  against  his  sleeve. 
Without  a  word,  his  free  hand  held  up  the  key  to 
her. 

She  took  it,  hesitated,  and  stooping,  kissed  him. 
"David,  if  only  I  could  love  you.  And  I  do — I 
love  you  better  than  any  one  in  the  world  but  not 
in  the  way  you  want,  my  dear." 

She  crossed  over  to  the  door  and  waited,  but  he 
neither  looked  up  nor  spoke.  So  she  unlocked  the 
door  and  stole  out. 


CHAPTER  VET 

ON  the  gray  monotone  that  was  now  David's 
life  stood  out  one  fact  that  became  insistent. 
His  mother  was  displeased  with  him.  It  worried 
him  the  more  because  her  health  was  no  longer 
what  it  had  been.  She  was  no  longer  the  firm  and 
vigorous  personality  that  had  ruled  the  household 
in  his  boyhood  days.  Very  often  now  those  tones 
that  had  been  so  full  and  inflexible  became  broken 
and  querulous. 

"I  thought  by  now  you  'd  be  making  enough  so 
we  could  leave  here,  David,"  she  said  to  him  one 
day.  "I  'm  wondering  if  I  '11  ever  leave  this 
place  before  I  die." 

Thus  David  knew  she  was  not  satisfied  with  the 
progress  he  was  making  with  the  Inland  Casualty 
Company.  Indeed  he  was  not  satisfied  himself. 
Entering  names  and  figures  into  a  large  book  with 
a  red  cover,  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  month 
after  month,  was  at  best  a  stale  and  monotonous 
duty.  He  could  not  become  interested  in  it.  He 
had  given  up  trying. 

Six  months  ago  under  the  stimulus  of  Nora 
Davenport's  presence  he  had  determined  to  find 

85 


86  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

another  position  which  would  employ  his  brain 
and  not  press  him  down  to  the  level  of  an  automa- 
ton. But  he  was  hindered  by  the  thought  of  his 
mother's  disapproval  and  he  also  entertained  a 
lingering  hope  that  his  cousin,  Mr.  Stanton,  would 
come  to  his  rescue.  Then  Nora  had  gone  away 
with  Walter  Bradford  and  with  her  going  left  him 
inert,  suffering,  devoid  of  ambition  or  purpose. 
The  trouble  with  David  now  was  that  he  did  not 
care  about  anything.  He  took  his  mother's  dis- 
approval without  protest. 

Each  storm  that  winter  seemed  to  leave  its  im- 
press on  Mrs.  Wells.  It  was  as  if  it  stole  through 
the  tightly  closed  doors  and  windows  of  the  little 
red  house  and  buffeted  and  shook  her.  When 
eventually  the  first  warm  spring  days  came  she 
eagerly  welcomed  them  out  on  the  veranda  which 
faced  the  sea.  But  even  the  bright  sunshine  failed 
to  warm  her  body  grown  so  feeble  and  wax- white. 
David  was  obliged  to  prepare  their  simple  meals 
almost  entirely  by  himself  while  his  mother  sat  by, 
seemingly  quite  happy  and  content,  talking  of 
matters  of  which  he  knew  nothing. 

"We  're  ready  to  go  driving,  Mother,  please 
hurry,"  she  said  once  in  an  urgent,  excited 
whisper. 

Presently  David  had  to  admit  to  himself  that 
her  mind  was  failing,  but  the  horror  of  the  thought 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  87 

was  leavened  by  the  gaiety  of  her  demeanor. 
When  he  was  not  confronted  by  the  spectacle  of  a 
trembling  old  woman  he  could  imagine  that  a 
young  girl  was  chattering  out  there  in  the  sun- 
shine. Every  morning  Mrs.  Wells  arrayed  her- 
self most  carefully  in  the  black  silk  dress,  the  lace 
collar,  and  the  cameo  pin,  and  from  somewhere 
she  brought  forth  a  small  black  lace  fan  spangled 
with  gilt  sequins  that  constantly  kept  her  hands 
busy. 

She  had  grown  so  helpless  that  David  wanted 
to  stay  with  her  all  day.  But  once,  when  he 
lingered,  she  seemed  to  recall  her  gaze  from  the 
distance  and  said  reprovingly,  " Business,  David! 
You  must  go!  You  must  be  a  gentleman  some 
day." 

Poor  dear  old  Pip  was  aging  too.  He  spent  his 
days  in  the  corner  near  the  fireplace,  regarding  its 
empty  cave  disapprovingly  through  bleared  eyes. 
Age  and  weariness  and  hopelessness  surrounded 
David. 

So  the  spring  deepened,  and  life  ran  on  and 
nothing  mattered. 

Then,  one  evening,  David  returned  from  the  City 
and  found  his  mother,  as  usual,  sitting  out  on  the 
veranda  but  as  he  approached  her  she  seemed  to 
have  fallen  together  in  the  chair.  An  icy  hand 
clutched  at  his  heart. 


88  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"Mother!"  lie  cried,  but  she  did  not  answer. 
" Mother!"  he  repeated  stepping  closer,  but  there 
was  still  no  answer. 

Presently  he  realized  that  she  was  dead  and  he 
fell  at  her  feet  weeping  .  .  .  old  Pip  waddled  out 
after  a  time  and  with  his  faithful  tongue  licked  the 
back  of  his  prostrate  master's  neck.  But  even 
this  did  not  comfort  him. 

David,  bewildered,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  what 
arrangements  to  make,  appealed  to  Mr.  Stanton. 
That  gentleman  calmly  took  charge  of  affairs, 
notifying  a  number  of  Mrs.  Wells '  other  relatives. 
Accordingly  the  day  of  the  funeral  found  the  little 
red  house  beneath  the  cliff  crowded  with  such  a 
company  as  it  was  never  meant  to  hold.  Besides 
Mr.  Stanton,  there  was  David's  uncle,  the  lawyer, 
a  stern,  thin  man  with  a  heavy  nose  and  over- 
hanging eyebrows;  two  thin  sisters  in  black  silk, 
very  elegant  and  soft-voiced,  who  murmured  in 
turn,  repeatedly,  "Poor  Jane!  What  a  hideous 
mistake  she  made!"  There  was  also  a  stout 
old  gentleman  with  gold-rimmed  spectacles  which 
he  constantly  polished  with  a  white  silk  hand- 
kerchief, and  there  were  others  of  like  pat- 
tern. 

David  felt  a  sudden  and  violent  hatred  for  all 
these  people.  The  feeling  came  to  him  that  none 
of  them  cared  for  his  mother;  they  had  simply 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  89 

come  now  that  she  was  dead  to  pry  into  the  little 
house  whose  door  she  had  held  shut  against  them 
for  so  long,  hiding  from  them  her  regrets  and 
her  longings.  He  caught  the  two  thin  sisters  gaz- 
ing around  curiously  at  the  room  while  their  long 
noses  from  behind  the  handkerchiefs  they  held 
before  them,  sniffed  twitchingly  into  corners.  He 
slipped  out  and  went  up  to  his  own  room,  closed 
the  door  noiselessly,  and  sat  by  the  window.  His 
eyes  were  dry  and  burning.  He  only  came  down- 
stairs at  last  when  Mr.  Stanton  called  to  him  that 
the  carriage  which  was  to  follow  the  hearse  was 
waiting  for  him. 

Then  afterwards  he  came  back  to  the  house 
alone. 

He  was  glad  the  mourners  had  gone,  glad  to  be 
alone,  but  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  him- 
self. Unrest  seized  him.  He  walked  around  the 
house,  from  one  room  to  the  other.  A  strange 
feeling  came  to  possess  him  that  he  continually 
met  his  father  and  mother,  and  stranger  still,  he 
also  met  himself  at  various  ages.  He  thought  of 
his  mother.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  loved 
her  more  than  he  had  ever  suspected.  He  missed 
her  horribly. 

Finally  he  dug  Pip  out  of  his  corner  and  held 
him  on  his  lap  while  he  sat  looking  out  the  window 
at  the  dark  waters  glimmering  under  the  stars  and 


90  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

he  wondered  about  life  and  death  and  the  eternal 
mystery  of  things. 

The  summer  stole  by  drearily  dragging  October 
behind  it.  It  was  almost  a  year  since  Nora's 
elopement. 

Mr.  Stanton  summoned  David  into  his  private 
office  one  day. 

4 'Be  seated,  David/'  he  said. 

David  sat  down,  wondering  what  was  to  come 
and  yet  not  deeply  curious. 

"I  have  been  watching  you  carefully,  my  boy," 
said  Mr.  Stanton.  "You  have  been  here  three 
years  and  you  do  not  show  the — hem! — develop- 
ment we  expect  from  our  young  men." 

"My  work  has  not  been  interesting,"  said 
David.  "If  you  could  give  me  work  in  which  I 
could  use  my  imagination — " 

"We  do  not  need  imagination  here,"  said  Mr. 
Stanton,  meticulously  emphasizing  the  right 
words.  "We  need  application — work — lots  of 
hard,  painstaking  effort — that  is  what  we  de- 
mand." 

David  was  silent. 

"I  do  not  think  you  are  exactly  adapted  to  the 
insurance  business,"  continued  Mr.  Stanton,  bal- 
ancing the  tips  of  the  fingers  of  one  hand  nicely 
against  the  tips  of  the  other.  "You  're  not  prac- 
tical. But  I  want  to  give  you  every  possible 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  91 

chance.  Suppose  you  go  out  and  take  a  walk  and 
think  things  over.  Come  back  and  see  me  in  an 
hour. ' ' 

David  was  glad  to  get  the  unaccustomed  outing. 
He  walked  down  Broadway  to  the  Battery  and 
stood  by  one  of  the  stone  posts  of  the  sea  wall 
with  his  hat  off.  He  tried  to  think  of  business 
and  of  what  he  should  say  to  Mr.  Stanton  on  his 
return,  but  he  could  not  keep  his  mind  on  it;  he 
could  only  think  of  the  Statue  of  Liberty  uplifting 
her  torch  out  there  in  the  harbor,  and  he  tried 
to  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  immigrants  when 
they  first  see  it — how  it  must  thrill  them  so  that 
they  raised  their  heavy  faces  toward  it  with 
prayers  on  their  lips — how  it  must  raise  hopes 
that  too  often  were  to  be  thrust  underfoot  in  the 
New  Land  of  Promise  where  luxury  is  only  for  the 
efficient  and  the  well-trained  and  the  grasping,  and 
where  no  one  is  satisfied  with  anything  but 
luxury. 

He  became  lost  in  this  maze  of  thought  and  did 
not  notice  that  he  was  overstaying  the  time  Mr. 
Stanton  appointed.  He  did  not  get  back  to  the 
office  until  two  hours  after  he  left  it  instead  of  the 
one  which  had  been  granted  him.  Mr.  Stanton 
was  awaiting  him  with  an  open  watch  on  his  desk. 

"You  are  late,"  he  began  sternly.  "It  is  char- 
acteristic of  you.  I  am  disappointed,  David." 


92  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 


As  David  said  nothing  but  merely  waited,  he 
asked  sharply:  "Well,  have  you  decided?" 

"I  '11  try  to  do  better — to  work  harder,"  said 
David,  "but  I  can't  promise." 

"You  can't  promise?" 

"If  you  give  me  work  that  will  interest  me — 
that  I  can  lose  myself  in — that  will  grip  me — oh, 
then  I  '11  promise  to  make  good!"  cried  David 
eagerly. 

Mr.  Stanton  snapped  his  watch  shut.  "We 
can't  give  you  such  work.  You  are  only  wasting 
your  time  here.  You  will  get  two  weeks'  salary 
as  you  leave  to-night." 

"I  'm — discharged?"  gasped  David. 

Mr.  Stanton  turned  to  his  desk  and  took  up  some 
papers  with:  "If  you  wish  to  put  it  that  way. 
You  may  refer  to  us  for — for  a  reference  as  to 
your  personal  character  and — and  family  connec- 
tions." 

David  continued  to  gaze  at  him  for  a  minute. 
Then  he  swung  around  and  walked  out. 

So  his  three  years  in  business,  the  career  on 
which  he  had  embarked  with  such  high  and  ardent 
hopes,  with  flags  waving  and  trumpets  blowing, 
ended  in  utter  shipwreck.  The  worst  of  it  was  he 
realized  it  was  his  own  fault  ...  he  had  never 
cared  .  .  .  never  tried. 

That  night  he  arrived  home  at  the  little  red 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  93 

house  and  prepared  his  supper  as  usual.  But 
after  it  was  all  ready  and  on  the  table  he  found 
he  could  eat  nothing.  So  he  cut  up  some  meat  on  a 
plate,  mixed  it  with  bread,  and  gave  it  to  Pip. 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  no  place 
to  go  to-morrow,  nothing  to  do.  A  great  feeling 
of  loneliness,  an  engulfing  sense  of  being  utterly 
alone,  fell  upon  him.  He  took  his  hat  from  the 
rack  and  went  to  the  door.  Pip  jumped  up  to  ac- 
company him,  but  David  shook  his  head. 

"Not  to-night,  Pip,"  he  said  gently.  "It  >s  all 
alone,  to-night." 

When  he  was  out  on  the  beach  a  thousand 
thoughts  assailed  him  like  embittered  furies.  It 
was  not  so  much  that  he  had  lost  his  position,  but 
it  was  the  last  of  a  number  of  events  that  had 
followed  fast  one  upon  the  other  to  break  his 
spirit.  He  thought  of  the  afternoon  when  he  and 
Nora  were  out  in  the  rowboat  and  Nora  had  told 
him  he  would  have  to  suffer  before  he  really  lived ; 
that  his  spirit  would  almost  have  to  be  broken 
with  suffering  before  he  saw  things  as  they  are. 
.  .  .  Well,  it  was  broken  now — it  was  utterly 
broken. 

First  there  had  come  Nora's  elopement,  her 
downfall,  as  he  could  not  help  but  put  it,  and  this 
had  been  the  cause  of  the  cruelest  suffering,  and 
then  his  mother's  death,  and  now,  last  of  all,  but 


94  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

somehow  more  than  he  could  bear,  his  failure  in 
business.  And  his  Great  Dream — his  Dream  to 
be  of  help  to  his  fellow  men — what  of  that?  It 
had  colored  and  filled  the  years  of  his  life  almost 
since  he  could  remember — it  had  colored  and  filled 
them  as  sunshine  fills  a  spring  morning.  And 
now  it  was  vanished.  It  was  as  if  it  had  never 
been.  It  left  life  shadowy  and  dark  and  full  of 
foreboding,  as  sunlight  leaves  a  swamp  on  a 
moonless  night.  He  was  lost  in  a  swamp  of  dark- 
ness— he  knew  no  directions — he  had  no  aim — he 
saw  no  light  anywhere — he  wished  the  swamp's 
slime  would  rise  up  and  cover  him  and  draw  him 
down  into  its  awful  depths. 

After  a  while  the  thousand  thoughts  ran  to- 
gether and  clotted,  forming  a  shapeless,  heavy 
mass  that  weighed  upon  his  brain  and  pressed  up- 
on his  heart.  He  continued  to  walk  along  the 
beach  but  he  did  not  know  where  he  walked.  Oc- 
casionally he  stumbled  over  rocks  and  pieces  of 
driftwood.  The  lights  of  Staten  Island  blinked 
and  danced  and  shivered,  and  they  were  like  eyes 
that  watched  him  relentlessly,  curiously,  as  if  they 
expected  he  was  going  to  do  something.  The  Oc- 
tober air  crept  around  him,  the  sea  murmured,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  that  each  had  a  dark  and  unutter- 
able message  for  him. 

Finally,  almost  without  intention  on  his  part  or 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  95 

even  consciousness  of  where  he  was  going,  he 
found  his  feet  in  water  and  continued  to  wade  out 
into  the  water.  It  was  very  shallow — the  tide 
must  be  out — it  took  a  long  time  to  reach  the  deep 
waters  where  oblivion  lay — where  the  solution  lay 
— where  problems  were  solved  and  broken  spirits 
mended. 

The  water  was  up  to  his  knees.  It  was  icy. 
It  numbed  him.  Suddenly  he  stopped.  He 
thought  of  Pip — of  the  faithful  little  animal 
grown  old  and  feeble  and  helpless.  There  was  no 
one  to  feed  him;  he  was  locked  in  the  house,  and 
he  would  starve — he  would  simply  starve.  David 
saw  him  watching  for  his  return — his  brown  eyes 
fixed  on  the  door.  So  he  would  die.  Pip  would 
never  give  up  hope — he  would  always  believe  in 
him,  always  depend  on  him,  always  trust  in  him 
until  the  end  came. 

And  could  he,  David,  fail  him? 

Then  David,  standing  there  with  the  cold  water 
clutching  at  him,  lapping  at  his  knees,  felt  his  brain 
clear.  The  cold  touch  of  the  water  revived  him. 
What  was  he  about?  This  was  a  coward's  way. 
He  had  always  been  a  dreamer,  he  had  failed  be- 
cause he  was  a  dreamer,  but  he  had  never  been  a 
coward.  He  threw  back  his  head  and  faced  the 
shore. 

1 '  HeU ! "  he  cried  aloud.    ' '  Oh,  hell,  it  can 't  end 


96  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

this  way!"  and  he  made  for  the  shore  with  long, 
resolute  strides. 

But  it  was  another  David  that  came  out  of  the 
water;  the  Dreamer  was  gone — and  the  Dream 
was  ended. 


PAKT  II 


CHAPTER  I 

DAVID  came  forth  from  the  water  that  night 
with  his  dreams  and  fancies  gone.  The 
waters  had  not  covered  him  but  they  had  swept 
away  the  illusions  which  he  had  cherished  so  long 
as  if  they  were  loose  garments  which  the  current 
had  seized  and  carried  off. 

And  something  fine  had  perished  there  in  the 
waters  off  the  Bay  Ridge  shore,  something  fine 
which  nearly  all  youth  possesses  and  which  the 
State,  if  it  had  been  a  wise  State,  would  have  taken 
and  trained  and  made  of  service  to  itself. 

For  David  came  out  of  the  water  intent  only  on 
himself  and  his  own  success.  There  was  left  no 
thought  for  others'  happiness.  He  was  deter- 
mined to  get  ahead,  to  get  money  and  power  for 
his  own  aggrandizement.  The  passing  days  hard- 
ened his  resolutions.  For  the  first  time  his  ambi- 
tions became  those  which  every  young  man  of  that 
period  was  supposed  to  be  consumed  with.  "Get 
rich!"  said  the  world.  ''Get  rich  honestly  if  you 
can,  but  anyway,  get  rich!"  David  determined  to 
obey  the  command.  He  must  be  a  success  finan- 

99 


100 

cially.  Underneath  this  determination  was  an- 
other: he  wanted  passionately  to  show  them  (and 
by  "them"  he  meant  Henry  Stanton  and  all  his 
kind)  that  he  had  in  him  the  stuff  which  makes 
success ;  the  shrewdness  and  skill  and  energy  which 
bring  a  poor  young  man  out  of  the  gloom  of  ob- 
scurity into  the  light  of  prosperity. 

Gone  was  his  desire,  that  dear  desire,  to  help  his 
fellow  men ;  gone  all  those  roseate,  altruistic  ideals 
of  his  youth  in  which  he  had  visioned  himself  a 
savior,  a  prophet,  and  a  leader  who  with  magic 
words  drew  humanity  on  towards  the  heights. 
Now  he  was  determined  to  climb,  but  to  climb 
alone,  to  leave  the  sweltering  mob  far  behind 
and  to  ally  himself  with  those  who  sit  in  ease  far 
above  the  wants  of  the  common  lot.  And  some- 
where mixed  up  in  these  new  ambitions,  part  of 
them,  was  the  belief  that  they  would  bring  him  to 
Nora. 

But  between  David  and  success  lay  ten  years. 

Ten  long  and  bitter  years  they  were!  Many 
times,  the  only  thing  that  stood  between  him  and 
starvation  was  the  five  hundred  dollars  a  year, 
which  his  mother  had  left  him,  so  invested  that  he 
could  obtain  only  the  interest  and  not  the  capital. 
This  ten  dollars  a  week  at  least  guaranteed  him 
the  dubious  comfort  of  a  cheap  boarding  house  in 
Brooklyn;  at  least  it  saved  him  from  joining  the 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  101 

ranks  of  those  shadows  who  darken  the  doorways 
of  gin  mills,  and  the  passageways  of  lodging 
houses  along  the  meanest  streets  of  the  city  .  .  . 

After  he  left  Bay  Eidge  he  had  first  lived  in  a 
boarding  house  in  Pacific  Street,  not  far  from  the 
ugly  red  and  yellow  brick  of  the  Long  Island  Kail- 
road  station — a  district  thick  with  boarding  houses 
of  a  cheap  and  respectable  sort,  hiding  their  worn 
carpets,  their  white  metal  beds,  their  frayed  and 
spotted  linen,  behind  the  neat  brownstone  fronts 
of  the  private  houses  of  a  past  generation.  Where 
doorways  and  steps  had  once  glittered  immaculate 
they  now  showed  stains  and  the  marks  of  perpetual 
passings ;  where  windows  had  shone  spotless,  cur- 
tains now  hung  awry,  shades  were  drawn  at  crazy 
angles. 

When  the  interminable  stews  of  that  first  board- 
ing house  turned  his  stomach  sick  with  loathing, 
David  moved  to  another  house  down  the  street. 
From  there  to  another  in  the  same  neighborhood 
— to  many  others. 

As  he  drifted  from  one  living  place  to  another, 
so,  unskilled,  untrained,  inefficient,  he  drifted  from 
one  job  to  another.  His  solitary  equipment  was 
his  imagination  and  for  that  he  could  find  no 
market.  He  sank  to  the  depths  of  doing  odd  jobs 
around  a  saloon  in  Livingston  Street,  a  down-at- 
the-heels,  ill-smelling  joint,  evil  with  age,  with  a 


102  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

back  room  to  which  women  brought  their  men  to 
bargain  with  them  over  wet,  shiny  tables ;  he  rose  to 
the  heights  of  reporting  for  the  * '  Brooklyn  Eagle ' ' 
— and  showed  not  a  little  skill  in  writing  news  but 
a  woeful  lack  of  energy  in  gathering  it.  He  was 
a  clerk  in  a  hardware  shop;  one  of  the  thousand 
employees  of  a  huge  department  store ;  during  one 
summer  when  the  street  car  company  took  on 
extra  men  he  was  a  conductor  on  the  Coney  Is- 
land line. 

And  yet,  do  you  know,  through  all  those  lean 
years  he  never  lost  faith  in  his  destiny.  His  belief 
in  his  ultimate  success  stayed  unshaken.  It  was 
that  belief  which  urged  him  to  abandon  one  job 
after  another,  which  kept  him  searching.  After 
he  had  been  at  work  in  a  place  for  three  months  or 
four  he  would  say  to  himself,  "This  is  not  it! 
This  is  not  what  I  want,"  and  again  he  would  go 
drifting.  Lean  years,  bitter  years,  and  yet, 
strangely,  not  altogether  unhappy  years !  Confi- 
dent of  the  future,»he  saw  her  beckoning  with  rosy 
finger.  Meanwhile  there  was  life  itself  unrolling 
before  him,  the  rich  and  variegated  life  of  a  big 
city,  a  panorama  which  passed  before  him  full  of 
all  sorts  of  interesting  and  wonderful  pictures. 
There  were  the  streets  with  their  hurrying 
throngs,  there  were  the  shop  windows  with  their 
displays  of  merchandise  from  all  the  world — rugs 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  103 

and  pictures,  cigars  and  cigarettes,  candies, 
groceries,  fruits,  sporting  goods,  canes  and  um- 
brellas— even  women's  clothes — he  found  interest 
in  all  of  them.  When  he  sauntered  out  of  his 
lonely  boarding  house  of  an  evening  and  wan- 
dered down  Fulton  Street,  a  change  in  the  display 
of  the  windows  of  one  of  the  big  department  stores 
was  an  event.  Then  there  was  the  reading-room 
of  the  library  in  Third  Avenue,  very  pleasant  in- 
deed of  a  rainy  night,  with  illustrated  magazines 
and  periodicals  to  look  over ;  and  there  was  Pros- 
pect Park  with  its  winding  walks  and  the  old  ceme- 
tery lying  hidden  on  the  slope  of  a  hill  and,  best 
of  all,  there  was  Brooklyn  Bridge,  with  the  black 
water  glimmering  below  with  the  gold  of  reflected 
lights  and  the  stupendous  mass  of  the  city,  shim- 
mering evanescent,  wonderful,  before  him. 

And  every  once  in  a  while  the  panorama  of  life 
reached  out  and  drew  him  into  its  folds  so  that 
he  danced  along  with  it,  no  longer  merely  a  by- 
stander who  watched  it  roll  by. 

For  he  came  to  know,  fleetingly,  many  men  and 
women — clerks,  employees  of  the  street  car  com- 
pany, barkeepers,  reporters,  old  people  in  the 
boarding  houses  living  frugally  on  their  savings, 
waiting,  it  seemed,  for  dissolution.  And  David 
studied  them  all,  wondered  about  them  all,  asked 
himself,  "What  are  they  getting  out  of  life?  Am 


104  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

not  I  going  to  get  more  out  of  it  than  they  are?" 
There  was  something  about  David  that  drew 
people  to  him,  made  them  confide  in  him,  made 
them  desire  to  be  friends  with  him — both  men  and 
women  he  attracted,  but  especially  women.  Per- 
haps it  was  his  voice  which  was  deep  and  tender,  a 
little  slow,  a  little  lazy,  as  if  it  had  taken  some 
quality  from  the  murmur  of  the  waters  on  the  Bay 
Ridge  shore ;  perhaps  it  was  the  way  in  which  his 
head  was  set  solidly  upon  his  shoulders,  the  broad, 
well-modeled  expanse  of  these  shoulders  and  the 
depth  and  curve  of  his  chest;  perhaps  it  was  the 
perpetual  and  rather  wistful  questioning  which  lin- 
gered in  the  depths  of  his  eyes — a  questioning 
which  many  women  tried — and  failed — to  answer. 
For  David  still  carried  in  his  eyes  the  pain  of  the 
blows  which  had  been  dealt  him  in  his  youth,  the 
blows  which  had  shattered  his  idealism  and  which 
had  led  him  once  to  seek  oblivion  in  black  waters. 
And  this  appeal  in  his  eyes,  combined  with  the 
splendid  and  vigorous  body  which  he  had  inherited 
from  his  father,  aroused  women's  curiosity,  mag- 
netized their  interest,  and  made  them  wish  to  offer 
comfort  and  solace. 

But  always  (during  these  years)  there  was  but 
one  woman  for  David,  whether  he  saw  her  as  a 
child  in  a  sailor  hat  waving  good-by  to  him  from 
the  top  of  a  cliff  or  whether  he  saw  her  as  a  hunted 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  105 

creature  telling  him  of  her  desperation,  while  out- 
side the  little  red  house  the  November  winds 
howled  their  derision. 

A  curious  change  came  over  David's  attitude  to- 
wards Nora  Davenport's  elopement  as  the  years 
sped  by.  At  first  he  could  not  help  but  think  she 
had  done  a  monstrously  wicked  thing;  she  had 
*  'fallen";  she  was  a  bad  woman  by  every  doctrine 
of  right  or  wrong.  But,  as  the  sand  slipped 
through  the  glass,  as  he  saw  intimately  on  his 
journeying  into  the  lives  of  many  men  and  women, 
as  he  experienced  himself  the  emotions  which 
swayed  them,  and  the  conditions  with  which  they 
must  do  battle,  he  realized  that  life  is  not  a  thing 
of  black  and  white,  of  sunshine  and  shadow,  wrong 
could  be  right  and  right,  wrong,  in  such  varying 
degrees  that  it  was  confusing,  dizzying,  impossible 
to  arrange  and  classify,  to  fix  the  line  of  demar- 
cation. Eventually  Nora  became  to  him  a  heroine 
of  romance,  a  glamorous  being.  But  whether  he 
thought  of  her  in  earlier  years  as  a  condemned 
woman  or,  later,  as  a  glorified  one,  he  never 
thought  of  her  without  a  quickening  of  the  breath 
and  a  melting  of  the  heart. 

His  devotion  to  Nora,  however,  did  not  rob  him 
of  all  sense  of  other  women.  Life  drove  on  and 
youth  held  the  whip.  While  his  relations  with 
most  of  the  women  he  came  to  know  were  simple 


106  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

and  friendly  and  innocent  enough,  there  were  ex- 
ceptions. 

It  was  through  one  of  the  exceptions  that  his 
success  was  brought  about. 


CHAPTER  II 

IT  was  during  one  of  his  many  periods  of  un- 
employment that  David  fell  in  with  Nell  Fer- 
guson. He  had  just  moved  to  a  new  boarding 
house  in  State  Street  and  during  the  long  spring 
evenings  when  he  sat  outside  on  the  stone  steps 
alone,  below  the  chattering  group  above  him,  she 
took  compassion  upon  him  and  gathering  her 
skirts  about  her  moved  her  round  straw  "seat" 
down  next  to  his  and  sat  beside  him. 

"I  hope  I  'm  not  intruding  on  your  thoughts," 
she  said,  as  introduction.  "It  's  sort  of  lonesome 
when  you  come  to  a  new  boarding  house  and  don't 
know  a  soul,  ain't  it?  I  know  because  I  been  up 
against  it  myself." 

She  was  older  than  he  and  so,  she  thought,  it 
was  not  too  unladylike  to  make  the  advances.  He 
looked  like  such  a  nice  boy  and  so  lonely.  The 
other  boarders,  of  course,  would  tease  her  about 
it.  But  pity  and  the  maternal  instinct  urged  her 
on. 

Nell  Ferguson  had  red  hair  that  only  needed  a 
little  more  attention,  a  more  knowing  arrange- 
ment, to  make  it  very  beautiful ;  like  a  copper  vase 

107 


108  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

that  needs  burnishing  to  bring  out  its  color.  Her 
eyes  were  green,  distinctly  green,  set  in  a  face  so 
pale  that  it  was  like  a  white  mask.  Her  lips  were 
thin  and  moistly  red  and  her  figure  was  of  the 
slimness  that  has  seen  its  blossoming  and  fallen 
back  into  virginal  lines — the  "old  maid,"  they 
called  her  in  the  boarding  house,  although  she  was 
but  a  few  years  past  thirty.  She  overflowed  with 
nervous  energy;  when  she  walked  her  feet  went 
pat,  pat,  pat,  very  rapidly  and  jerkily;  her  body 
slanted  a  little  to  one  side  as  if  she  were  sailing 
before  a  wind  and  when  she  talked  her  hands  ac- 
companied her  words  in  quick  little  gestures. 
This  animation  gave  her  a  certain  charm  .  .  .  and 
her  laugh  was  like  the  peal  of  tiny  bells  beneath 
glass. 

As  Nell  Ferguson  and  David,  after  that  overture 
on  the  steps,  advanced  into  friendship,  as  they 
walked  down  the  street  together  to  get  an  ice  cream 
soda  at  the  corner  drug  shop  and,  later,  when  they 
took  trolley  rides  down  to  Coney  Island,  spring,  a 
sweet  mild,  tumultuous  spring,  assailed  them. 
Even  State  Street  washed  clean  by  spring  rains 
shone  whitely  with  spring  sunshine  and  the  soli- 
tary tree  the  block  boasted  carried  all  the  season's 
significance  in  its  pale  green  branches.  It  seemed 
quite  natural  that  Nell  should  slip  her  arm 
through  David's,  that  beneath  the  soft  cloak  of  ad- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  109 

vancing  night  their  hands  should  meet,  their  fin- 
gers intertwine.  It  meant  nothing,  Nell  Ferguson 
assured  herself.  She  was  so  much  older  than  the 
boy  and  she  knew  her  world,  her  world  of  offices 
and  boarding  houses  with  a  knowledge  so  keen  that 
it  was  cruel. 

As  for  David,  he  was  not  nearly  as  sophisticated 
as  Nell.  He  liked  Nell  immensely,  but  love  her? 
— not  a  bit  of  it.  He  analyzed  his  emotions  suf- 
ficiently to  come  to  that  decision.  Occasionally  in 
sentimental  moments,  when  he  pressed  her  arm  or 
held  her  hand,  he  tried  to  pretend  it  was  another's 
arm,  another's  hand,  but  he  had  knowledge  enough 
not  to  let  Nell  know  this.  And  he  had  kindness 
enough.  He  was  twenty  five  now  and  he  had  had 
his  experiences,  but  he  felt  that  Nell  was  a  "good" 
girl  and  not  for  anything  would  he  have  violated 
that  goodness. 

And  the  spring,  intent  on  its  own  work,  laughed ! 
Busy  with  its  brush  and  broom,  its  spade  and  its 
watering  pot,  the  spring  laughed !  More  sensuous 
than  the  soft  music  of  stringed  instruments,  more 
alluring  than  the  light  of  shaded  candles,  more  in- 
toxicating than  the  stealth  of  pale  gold  wine,  more 
potent  than  all  these  cheap  and  artificial  things, 
the  spring  mocked  them. 

One  night  in  late  June,  almost  three  months  after 
their  first  meeting,  they  returned  from  a  trip  to 


110  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Coney  Island.  Down  there,  the  sea  lying  like  a 
mirror  beneath  the  stars  had  held  them  late.  It 
was  past  midnight  when  they  reached  the  boarding 
house.  On  the  steps  they  lingered. 

" Don't  go  in  yet,  Nell,"  David  pleaded.  "It 's 
too  beautiful.  We  can  see  almost  as  many  stars 
here  as  down  by  the  ocean.  Let  's  sit  here  a  little 
while." 

'  *  No.  I  'd  better  go  in, ' '  Nell  said,  and  her  voice 
was  so  strained  that  David  turned  in  surprise  to 
look  at  her. 

"  You  feel  all  right!" 

"  Yes— yes!" 

' 'Then  don't  go  in  just  yet." 

She  sat  down  reluctantly  a  little  distance  from 
him,  tense  and  still,  all  her  habitual  little  nervous 
movements  stilled.  When  his  hand,  following  its 
custom,  sought  hers,  touched  hers  there  in  the 
shadow,  he  found  it  frozen.  "Poor  cold  little 
hand!"  he  murmured,  and  placing  it  between  his 
own  tried  to  warm  it.  He  drew  her  to  him.  And 
— in  a  minute — she  was  in  his  arms.  She  kissed 
him  with  her  moist  quivering  lips.  "Oh,  David, 
forgive  me!"  she  sobbed.  "It  wasn't  my  fault. 
I  was  fighting  against  it.  You  would  n  't  help  me. 
You  would  n't  let  me  go." 

But  the  flame  of  his  emotions  had  leaped  to  meet 
hers.  No,  he  wouldn't  let  her  go  now.  He  felt 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  111 

curiously  as  lie  had  felt  once  when  he  had  stayed 
under  water  too  long;  there  was  the  same  pound- 
ing in  his  ears ;  the  same  surcharged  pressure  of 
the  blood  as  if  it  would  burst  the  skin.  No  com- 
punctions had  he  now. 

The  step  of  a  passerby  sounded. 

''Let  's  go  into  my  room,"  Nell  whispered,  her 
face  damp  with  tears,  close  against  his  ... 

Naturally  it  was  not  long  before  Nell  Ferguson 
knew  the  events  of  David's  life  as  a  rugmaker 
knows  the  pattern  he  is  weaving — all  except  the 
part  Nora  Davenport  had  played  in  it.  She  knew 
his  ambitions,  too,  and  how  he  had  come  by  those 
ambitions,  and  while  she  had  not  understood  him 
entirely  when  he  had  told  her  of  his  earlier  dreams 
and  preoccupations  she  could  sympathize  with  his 
present  purposes.  Furthermore  she  had  faith  in 
him  even  though  for  three  months  now  he  had 
been  unable  to  find  work. 

At  night  when  they  sat  on  the  steps  together  or 
walked  through  the  summer  streets  after  the  heat 
of  day  had  passed,  she  did  what  she  could  to  en- 
courage him,  strengthen  his  belief  in  himself. 
"It  's  only  the  chance  you  want,  David,"  she  re- 
cited. "There  was  Willie  Marshall,  a  feller  I 
knew.  He  never  could  seem  to  get  ahead,  went 
from  one  job  to  another  like  you.  Then,  one  day, 


112  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

his  uncle  died  and  left  him  a  little,  run-down 
grocery  store  on  Atlantic  Avenue.  Well,  it  seemed 
Willie  had  a  knack  for  running  a  grocery  store 
but  no  one  had  ever  guessed  it  ...  now  he  's  got 
eighteen  stores  all  over  the  city.  It 's  like  that. 
You  got  to  find  your  chance.  But  you  got  to  keep 
looking,  David." 

One  July  evening  she  followed  him  up  to  his 
room  from  the  dinner  table.  She  was,  he  could 
see,  greatly  excited.  Her  green  eyes  were  shin- 
ing like  grass  with  the  sun  on  it  and  in  each  pale 
cheek  glowed  a  spot  of  color.  "Say,  David, 
there  's  a  job  open  in  our  office.  Not  much  of  a 
job — eight  dollars  a  week  as  bill-clerk.  But  it 's 
something  to  start  on.  And  B.  Foster  and  Com- 
pany is  a  good  concern  to  work  for — treat  you  fine. 
I  been  raised  every  year  since  I  been  there. 
Maybe  you  could  work  your  way  up — maybe  it 's 
just  the  opening  you  want." 

"Eight  dollars  sounds  like  a  lot  to  me  now,  Nell. 
I  '11  go  over  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"Let 's  see  how  you  look."  She  took  his  arm 
and  without  ceremony  pulled  him  over  to  the  wall 
where  a  thin  gas  jet  sputtering  beside  a  yellow 
pine  bureau  added  its  warmth  to  the  heat  of  the 
room.  David's  forehead  was  beaded  with  sweat 
and  he  knew  well  enough  that  his  gray  suit  worn 
thin  and  shapeless  at  certain  vulnerable  spots  was 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  113 

not  fit  for  the  close  inspection.  Nell  pursed  her 
lips  reflectively  and  shook  her  head.  "That 
suit  's  pretty  well  done  for  and  your  cuffs  are 
frayed. ' ' 

"I  >ve  got  a  better  shirt,"  he  protested,  flushing 
at  the  frankness  of  her  criticism,  for  he  was  al- 
ways sensitive  about  his  appearance. 

"Ain't  got  any  money  hidden  away,  have  you?" 

David  drew  forth  a  crumpled  dollar  bill  and  a 
few  pieces  of  silver  from  his  pocket.  ' '  That  's  all 
— till  I  get  my  ten  next  week. ' ' 

"Well,  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do.  I  '11  give  you 
the  money  and  you  go  down  to  Abraham  and 
Strauss'  to-morrow  morning  as  soon  as  it  opens. 
They  're  having  a  sale  of  men's  twenty-five  dollar 
suits  for  sixteen  fifty.  You  get  one,  a  nice  plain 
blue  one;  blue  looks  so  cool  for  summer,  and  for 
Heaven's  sake  see  that  it  fits  better  'n  the  one  you 
got  on.  Then  as  soon  as  you  get  fixed  up  in  it  you 
come  right  over  and  apply  for  that  job.  You  got 
a  good  chance  'cause  they  ain't  advertised  it  yet." 

"I  can't  take  your  money,  Nell." 

"You  can't?"  she  demanded  hotly.  "And  why 
not?  Sure  you  can.  You  can  pay  me  back,  can't 
you?" 

"Yes,  I  could  pay  you  back  in  a  month  if  I  get 
the  job,  but  suppose  I  don't  get  it? " 

"You  got  to  get  it,  that 's  all.     They  '11  give  it 


114  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

to  you  if  you  show  'em  you  want  it  bad  enough." 

Finally  she  not  only  gave  him  the  money  for  the 
suit  but  for  a  blue  necktie  with  white  spots  and  for 
a  straw  hat  as  well  .  .  . 

David  got  the  job  and  with  his  first  week's 
salary  bought  Nell  a  box  of  chocolates  and  two  dol- 
lars '  worth  of  American  Beauties. 

"If  you  're  going  to  spend  your  money  as  fool- 
ish as  that,"  she  admonished  him,  "you  '11  never 
get  ahead — never ! ' ' 

But  she  took  the  roses  to  her  room,  wept  over 
them  a  little,  and  secretly  was  a  thousand  times 
more  pleased  than  if  he  had  paid  her  back  imme- 
diately the  entire  sum  he  had  borrowed  from  her. 


CHAPTER  in 

IN  Greenwich  Street,  in  the  center  of  an  area  of 
tangled,  truck-crowded  streets,  where  the  food 
the  city  consumes  stands  in  crates  and  boxes  be- 
neath sheds  that  roof  the  sidewalks  into  long,  lit- 
tered passageways  through  which  the  pedestrian 
with  difficulty  picks  his  way,  where  the  clanging 
street  cars  add  to  the  confusion  and  the  trains  of 
the  Ninth  Avenue  Elevated  lend  their  shrieks  and 
groans  to  the  turmoil  of  the  streets  below;  in  the 
midst  of  this  chaos  and  confusion  was  located  the 
old  building  which  the  firm  of  B.  Foster  and  Com- 
pany had  occupied  for  thirty  years. 

It  was,  as  such  things  go,  an  ancient  concern, 
burdened  with  traditions,  with  methods  of  doing 
business  that  were  fast  becoming  obsolete.  The 
business,  as  you  could  readily  tell  if  you  stood  be- 
fore the  wide-doored  main  entrance  and  savored 
the  pungent  odor  of  roasting  coffee,  was  chiefly 
dealing  in  these  small  brown  berries.  But  teas 
and  various  spices  also  played  their  part.  The 
firm  bought  these  commodities  from  the  importers 
and,  with  a  comfortable  margin  added,  sold  them 

115 


116  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

to  grocers,  general  stores,  and  hotels  throughout 
the  Eastern  States.  It  was  not  until  several  years 
later,  after  David  had  developed  the  idea  of  pack- 
ing tea  and  coffee  in  bright  red  shiny  packages, 
that  their  business  became  national  in  scope. 
And  by  that  time,  of  course,  they  had  built  that 
large  structure,  towering  over  the  other  huddled 
buildings  of  the  district,  which  they  now  occupy, 
and  they  were  importing  their  own  teas  and  cof- 
fees from  the  far  ends  of  the  earth. 

The  place  that  David  found  that  first  day  was 
small  and  humble  enough,  not  nearly  large  enough 
nor  important  enough  to  house  his  great  ambi- 
tions. The  main  floor  of  the  building,  piled  high 
in  the  rear  with  sacks  of  coffee,  was  given  to  ship- 
ping purposes ;  on  the  floor  above  it  were  the  offices 
and  the  three  or  four  additional  floors  were  all 
devoted  to  " stock" — more  coffee  in  its  rotund, 
burlap  bags,  chests  of  tea  with  strange  markings 
and  pictures  pasted  on  their  straw  faces,  tins  and 
bags  and  barrels  of  cloves,  mustard,  pepper,  and 
other  spices. 

David's  first  two  years  with  B.  Foster  and  Com- 
pany were  uneventful  enough.  He  slaved  away  at 
his  desk  from  morning  till  night,  making  out  bills 
from  the  order  slips  which  came  to  him  from  the 
shipping  clerk  in  batches  of  twenty  and  thirty  at  a 
time.  He  was  rapid  and  accurate  at  the  simple 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  117 

arithmetic  the  work  demanded  and  he  satisfied  his 
employers  without  in  any  way  attracting  their 
special  attention.  At  the  end  of  the  first  year  he 
found  an  extra  two  dollars  in  his  weekly  pay  en- 
velope. 

It  was  only  because  of  Nell  that  he  clung  to  the 
job.  By  turning  his  head  he  could  see  her,  one  of 
a  dozen  girls,  bending  over  their  typewriters,  and 
the  patience  of  those  stooping  shoulders,  that 
glossy  red  hair  fixed  so  steadfastly  over  the  click- 
ing keys,  somehow  gave  him  a  renewed  sense  of 
duty.  He  hated  the  work.  It  was  so  deadly 
monotonous.  He  hated  it  with  the  intensity  of 
hate  he  had  given  his  task  of  filing  cards,  long 
ago  in  the  office  of  the  insurance  company.  Al- 
most ten  years,  he  thought  sometimes,  and  still  at 
this  horrible,  meaningless  drudgery  which  made 
life  a  mockery,  and  often  he  found  himself  asking 
that  old  question  which  had  now  become  like  the 
cry  of  a  tortured  soul, ' '  Is  this  all — is  this  all  that 
I  am  going  to  get  out  of  life?"  And  he  felt  that 
he  must  rebel,  that  he  could  not  let  this  be  all. 
But  Nell  held  him. 

When  they  walked  home  together  at  night  to- 
wards Brooklyn  Bridge,  he  said  to  Nell  more  than 
once,  "I  can't  stand  it  much  longer.  Soon  I 
shan't  be  fit  for  anything  else." 

And  she  took  his  arm,  let  him  feel  the  warm 


118  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

pressure  of  her  fingers,  with,  "I  heard  some  of 
them  saying  there  '11  be  great  changes  there  when 
old  man  Foster  dies.  Maybe  there  '11  be  some- 
thing for  you  then,  David." 

Meanwhile  the  chance  which  was  to  make  David 
a  success  was  close  upon  him. 

At  Nell's  suggestion  he  had  taken  up  the  study 
of  stenography  and  typewriting  at  a  night  school. 
He  never  was  diligent  enough  to  master  the  former 
but  he  did  get  so  that  he  could  typewrite  fairly 
well,  and  one  day  he  asked  John  Powell,  the  junior 
partner,  if  he  could  have  a  machine  on  which  to 
write  his  bills. 

John  Powell,  who  in  the  slang  of  the  day  was 
known  as  the  "live  wire"  of  the  concern,  readily 
gave  his  consent.  David  found,  after  a  little  prac- 
tice, that  he  could  do  his  work  so  much  more 
rapidly  on  a  typewriter  that  half  his  day  was  left 
idle.  Time  moved  more  sluggishly  than  ever. 

But  one  afternoon  the  junior  partner,  noticing 
David  sitting  idle,  handed  him  a  batch  of  letters. 

"See  if  you  can  answer  these,"  he  said.  "You 
ought  to  know  enough  about  the  business  by  now 
to  be  able  to  do  it  without  having  to  be  told  what 
to  say." 

David  seized  upon  this  new  work  eagerly.  The 
letters  he  had  to  answer  were  from  storekeepers 
in  Troy,  in  Rome,  in  Columbus,  from  many  small 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  119 

towns  and  villages.  They  were  quite  ordinary 
letters,  asking  for  information  about  prices,  ship- 
ments, errors  in  weight,  but  as  David  read  them 
over  he  had  a  vision  of  alert,  eager  little  men, 
pencils  behind  ears,  with  bald  foreheads,  coat- 
less,  looking  at  him  appealingly.  These  small 
matters  were  momentous  to  them.  As  if  each  let- 
ter were  a  personal  appeal  he  set  to  work  to  satisfy 
it. 

The  closing  bell  rang  and,  for  the  first  time, 
David  did  not  hear  it.  Outside  the  wrought-iron 
railing  Nell  stood  trying  to  attract  his  attention, 
asking  by  her  attitude  whether  she  should  wait  for 
him  or  go  home  alone.  Mr.  Powell  approached 
and  stood  gazing  over  his  shoulder,  watching  him 
with  an  amused  twinkle  in  his  eyes — and  David 
noticed  none  of  these  things. 

For  at  last  he  had  been  given  work  which  how- 
ever humbly,  claimed  his  imagination,  and  at  last 
he  had  found  himself  .  .  . 

That  night  David  could  eat  no  dinner.  The  pot 
roast  and  boiled  potatoes  grew  cold  on  the  plate 
before  him. 

"I  Ve  got  it,  Nell,*'  he  kept  saying  to  her  over 
and  over,  after  he  had  induced  her  to  go  walking 
with  him ;  "I  Ve  got  what  I  can  do. ' ' 

Nell  smiled  sympathetically  and  said  nothing — 
but  her  eyes  did  not  smile. 


120  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

The  next  morning  after  Mr.  Powell  had  read  the 
letters  which  had  been  laid  in  a  neat  pile  on  his 
desk,  he  summoned  David  to  his  private  office  and 
pushed  a  chair  towards  him  with:  " Close  the 
door  and  sit  down ;  I  want  to  talk  with  you. 

"I  'm  afraid  you  Ve  been  hiding  your  light 
under  a  bushel,  Wells, ' '  he  began.  ' '  These  letters 
are — well,  they  're  remarkable.  They  won't  do 
at  all,  need  toning  down,  but  there  's  something 
about  them,  something  friendly,  intimate," — over 
his  glasses  he  regarded  David  with  interest — 
"I  'm  going  to  put  you  in  training,  my  boy. 
I  'm  going  to  make  you  chief  correspondent. 
We  need  young  blood  in  this  concern.  We  're  get- 
ting ossified.  Nobody  sees  it  but  me.  I  've  had  to 
fight  for  every  innovation.  There  's  a  future  here 
for  you.  But  you  must  promise  to  stick  to  me — 
and  by  me." 

David  nodded,  too  amazed  to  speak. 

This  was  the  period  during  which  the  stiff  and 
formal  letters  of  business,  the  trite  and  awkward 
conventional  phrases,  were  just  beginning  to  be 
replaced  by  somethiBg  else,  something  more  human 
and  natural.  It  was  the  period  during  which  a 
few  progressive  business  men  had  discovered  that 
you  could  write  to  a  man  as  you  talked  to  him, 
that  letter  writing  could  be  made  an  art,  that  an 
imaginative  appeal  could  be  made  to  a  buyer  that 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  121 

would  open  his  purse  strings  as  the  magic  word 
11  Sesame"  opened  the  door  of  the  cave. 

And  David,  under  the  direction  of  John  Powell, 
did  make  his  writing  of  letters  an  art.  His  suc- 
cess was  astonishing.  His  letters  created  cus- 
tomers where  personal  visits  from  the  firm's  sales- 
men had  failed. 

"The  trouble  with  most  business  men  is  that 
they  lack  imagination,"  said  Mr.  Powell  to  David 
— and  he  seemed  to  be  voicing  David's  own 
thoughts. — "Business  has  been  conducted  with  in- 
credible stupidity.  Perhaps  not  all  businesses — 
finance,  railroading — there,  of  course,  they  simply 
had  to  have  imagination.  And  in  the  professions 
— there  they  have  specialists,  men  trained  to  think 
in  certain  ways.  But  in  an  ordinary  next-to-the- 
ground  business  like  ours  there  has  just  been 
blundering,  stumbling  along,  no  knowledge  of  the 
field  at  large,  no  knowledge  of  the  forces  that  make 
a  man  buy,  make  a  hundred  men  buy,  a  million 
men  .  .  .  make  'em  buy  again  and  again.  If  only 
I  had  a  free  hand — "  his  eyes  became  dreamy,  dis- 
tant, while  David  sat  by  worshiping  this  mirac- 
ulous man  who  had  so  accidentally  discovered 
him  and  who  so  well  appreciated  imagination. 
"Well,  some  day  I  shall  have  a  free  hand,"  said 
Powell,  bringing  his  gaze  back  to  earth  and  to 
David.  "I  can  manage  young  Foster  all  right. 


122  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

It  's  the  old  man  who  stands  in  the  way.  You 
must  stick  to  me,  David.  How  much  are  you  get- 
ting now?  I  '11  see  if  I  can  get  a  raise  for  you 
next  month.  I  have  the  ideas,  but  I  can't  express 
them,  can't  get  them  on  paper  as  you  can.  I  can 
see  this  business  growing,  growing  .  .  .  after  old 
Foster  gets  out  of  the  way.  Think  of  it !  Beach- 
ing all  over  the  globe,  into  every  nook,  every 
corner,  to  bring  in  the  things  the  American  public 
wants,  can  be  made  to  think  they  want.  We  '11 
sell  'em  at  a  fancy  price,  too,  David.  Goes  better. 
We  '11  go  up  together,  you  and  I.  And  it  isn't 
the  money  so  much — it  's  the  fun  of  it — the  game. ' ' 

Thus  Mr.  Powell  spoke  to  David  often  and 
David  grew  to  look  upon  him  as  the  most  remark- 
able man  he  had  ever  known.  Between  them 
sprang  up  a  friendship  apart  from  their  business 
associations.  John  Powell  at  that  time  was  a  man 
of  forty  five,  a  smallish  man  with  a  round  body 
and  a  big  round  head.  But  his  legs  were  short 
and  thin.  They  scarcely  seemed  capable  of  sup- 
porting that  big  body  especially  that  large  head 
with  its  prominent  Eoman  nose  and  heavy  jaw. 
When  he  stood  up  David  sometimes  thought  of 
him  as  Punch  tottering  on  his  frail  limbs.  He  was 
a  bachelor  and  lived  in  an  apartment  of  his  own 
uptown  with  a  Japanese  valet  to  look  after  him. 

"Can't  stand  women  around  me,"  he  told  David 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  123 

once,  when  he  had  carried  him  off  to  dinner  with 
him.  "Always  fussing,  meddling,  tidying  things 
up.  I  've  got  use  for  only  one  kind  of  woman — 
and  that  isn't  the  good  kind.  Good  women  de- 
mand too  much,  tie  a  man  down,  stop  his  work,  get 
a  strangle-hold. " 

He  also  told  David  that  night  of  how  he  had 
come  to  New  York,  a  poor  boy  from  the  country. 
"The  s&me  old  story,"  he  said  with  a  grim  laugh. 
"The  same  old  privations  at  first  .  .  .  but  we  're 
getting  somewhere  now.  I  've  got  a  foot  on  the 
ladder  and  it  '11  take  all  hell  to  shake  me  loose. ' ' 

So  David  with  John  Powell's  help  also  got  his 
foot  on  the  ladder,  and  with  his  skill  in  writing  let- 
ters started  to  climb.  But  meanwhile  on  the  other 
side  of  his  life,  the  personal  side,  forces  were  at 
work  upon  him,  influencing  him,  shaping  him, 
changing  him  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  IV 

OME  day,  dear,  you  '11  want  to  be  free  of 
me,"  Nell  said  more  than  once,  "and  when 
that  time  comes  just  tell  me.  I  don 't  want  to  stand 
in  your  way.  I  don't  want  to  hold  you  a  day 
longer  than — than  you  want  me  to. ' ' 

David  always  tried  to  reassure  her  when  she 
took  this  tone.  But  secretly  he  often  found  him- 
self wishing  that  the  affair  were  over — that  it  had 
never  been  begun.  He  had  never  cared  enough  to 
justify  it.  He  had  just  been  swept  into  it  as  a 
straw  carried  by  a  current  of  water  is  swept  into 
a  muddy  pool  in  which  it  lies  helpless,  slowly  re- 
volving. He  could  not  see  his  relations  with  Nell 
clearly;  his  feelings  in  regard  to  them  went 
through  so  many  phases.  Sometimes  he  was 
ashamed  of  them,  imagined  what  people  would  say 
if  they  knew — especially  such  people  as  John 
Powell  and  the  Fosters,  father  and  son,  who  held 
his  destiny  in  their  hands.  Sometimes  he  justi- 
fied himself  by  saying  that  he  was  simply  follow- 
ing nature's  dictates — he  was  neither  better  nor 
worse  thajo.  other  men.  Sometimes  he  became  ter- 

124 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  125 

ribly  sick  of  the  whole  thing,  rebelled  against  the 
obligations  it  imposed  upon  him.  Often  he  blamed 
himself  severely,  held  himself  to  account  but  just 
as  often  he  felt  that  it  had  been  forced  upon  him, 
that  he  was,  in  a  measure,  guiltless.  But  always 
he  told  himself  that  he  must  do  the  square  thing  by 
Nell. 

Meanwhile  he  found — and  it  disturbed  him 
greatly — that  Nell  could  not  keep  up  with  the  new 
interests  his  increasing  income  opened  up  to  him. 
He  developed  a  taste  for  modern  literature;  the 
best  of  it,  and  bought  and  read  avidly  the  books 
of  Wells,  Galsworthy,  translations  from  the  Eus- 
sian  novelists.  And  it  hurt  him  that  Nell  could 
not  share  his  passion  for  these  books,  that  when  he 
loaned  them  to  her,  after  one  or  two  attempts,  she 
left  them  lying  unread  on  her  table.  And  he  had 
many  other  new  interests  which  remained  as  closed 
as  the  books  to  her.  In  the  old  days  he  had  been 
glad  enough  to  go  on  trolley  rides  with  Nell,  little 
excursions  on  which  they  had  each  paid  their  own 
share  of  the  expenses,  to  go  on  walks  ending  up 
with  a  "treat"  at  an  ice  cream  parlor  or,  more 
rarely,  a  beer-garden.  But  now  that  he  had  more 
money,  these  simple  pleasures  did  not  satisfy  him 
— he  wanted  to  go  to  theaters,  expensive  restau- 
rants, roof-gardens. 

He  tried  to  get  Nell  to  go  with  him,  and  while 


126  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

he  often  succeeded  he  never  succeeded  without  pro- 
tests from  her. 

" Ain't  you  spending  too  much,  David?"  she 
sometimes  asked,  awed  by  the  prices  on  the  menu 
which  the  waiter  placed  in  her  hands.  "Why 
can't  we  have  dinner  at  the  house — we  pay  for  it 
anyway — and  then  go  to  the  theater  afterwards  ? ' ' 

But  David  thought  of  John  Powell's  glowing 
promises  and  smiled  at  her  fears.  He  went  so  far 
as  to  try  to  induce  Nell  to  accept  some  clothes  and 
jewelry  from  him,  even  some  money,  but  she  shut 
her  lips  and  shook  her  head  until  her  red  hair  fell 
in  little  loose  coils  around  her  pale  cheeks. 

David  indulged  in  other  extravagances  that 
made  her  gaze  at  him  sadly.  Once  when  he  came 
down  dressed  in  dinner  clothes  (they  were  going 
to  the  theater)  she  said,  "You  're  getting  too  grand 
for  me,  David,"  and  in  a  half -whisper,  "if  I  don't 
look  good  enough  for  you — " 

But  David  denied  the  imputation  indignantly 
and  he  was  sincere  in  his  indignation.  Neverthe- 
less he  wished  that  Nell  would  let  him  buy  her 
some  fashionable  clothes,  such  as  the  other  women 
wore  in  the  places  he  now  frequented.  He  under- 
stood Nell's  scruples  but  he  wished  he  could  over- 
come them. 

He  had  bought  the  evening  clothes  ready  made, 
for  a  dinner  party  to  which  John  Powell  had  in- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  127 

vited  him — a  dinner  party  which  was  held  in  the 
main  dining-room  of  one  of  the  big  uptown  hotels, 
the  brilliance  and  gorgeousness  of  which  took 
David 's  breath  away.  And  the  party  itself  was  a 
revelation — this  was  an  experience  totally  new  to 
him.  The  champagne  flowed  so  plentifully  it  set  a 
new  standard  of  extravagance  for  him ;  the  women 
with  their  dazzling  teeth  and  jewels,  their  sleek, 
lustrous  hair  and  bare  shoulders,  embarrassed 
him.  "And  I  'm  nothing  but  a  clerk  living  in  a 
cheap  boarding  house  in  Brooklyn,"  he  thought. 
Very  small  he  felt — very  insignificant.  But  his 
new  evening  clothes  were  reassuring,  and  John 
Powell  said,  his  hand  on  David's  shoulder,  "This 
is  a  young  man  who  's  going  to  make  his  mark  in 
the  world."  Under  that  spur,  David  took  him- 
self in  hand  and  found  somewhat  to  his  surprise, 
that  he  could  converse  quite  intelligently  with  the 
most  brilliant  of  the  women,  could  return  sally  for 
sally. 

"You  '11  do,  my  boy,"  said  John  Powell  in  his 
apartment  later — he  had  invited  David  to  stay  all 
night  with  him.  ' '  It  took  me  some  time  to  get  on 
to  the  ropes  when  I  first  got  enough  money  to  go 
in  for  this  sort  of  thing.  All  you  need  in  New 
York  is  bluff.  Just  pretend  that  you  Ve  been 
used  to  all  this  show  and  glitter  all  your  life. 
Don 't  be  surprised  at  anything.  If  they  serve  you 


128  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

soup  in  gold  plates  take  it  as  a  matter  of  course." 

That  was  the  first  of  many  such  parties  to  which 
John  Powell  invited  David.  And  after  each  one 
David  went  back  to  the  State  Street  boarding 
house  with  a  greater  loathing  of  its  stale  smells 
and  worn  furniture  and  monotonous  greasy  fare. 
John  Powell  kept  urging  him  to  come  over  and 
live  with  him.  "You  can  pay  your  share  of  the 
expenses — whatever  you  can  afford — if  it  's  the 
thought  of  coming  free  that 's  keeping  you  back," 
he  said. 

But  as  Nell  had  held  him  to  his  position  with 
B.  Foster  and  Company,  in  the  early  days,  so  now 
she  held  him  to  the  boarding  house  in  Brooklyn. 

So  their  affair  dragged  on  ... 

Then  one  night  very  late,  David  stole  out  of 
Nell's  room,  carrying  his  shoes  in  one  hand  and 
there  before  him  stood  the  landlady. 

"An*  so  Mrs.  Jenkins  was  right,"  she  said  with 
tight  lips,  "an'  I  kep'  telling  her  she  was  a 
grumpy  old  busybody.  Well,  who  'd  'a'  thought 
it." 

The  next  morning  Nell  and  he  were  told  they 
must  leave  the  boarding  house  immediately.  "I 
never  had  such  goings-on  in  my  house  before," 
said  the  landlady  and  her  eyes  glittered  like  hard 
black  coals  in  her  worried,  toilworn  face.  "I  Ve 
always  tried  to  run  a  respectable  house  an'  now 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  129 

look  at  the  name  you  give  me.  The  other  boarders 
would  all  give  notice  if  you  don't  git  out  an'  I 
don't  know  as  I  'd  blame  them." 

David  had  spent  a  sleepless  night.  Disgrace  in 
the  eyes  of  these  people  came  hard;  doubly  hard 
because  he  despised  them  all.  And  now  what  was 
he  to  do  in  regard  to  Nell?  Try  as  he  would  to 
find  a  solution,  an  escape,  there  was  only  one — 
only  one,  if  he  were  to  abide  by  his  vow  "to  do  the 
square  thing"  by  her.  For  Nell  was  disgraced, 
too.  And  for  a  woman  the  disgrace  was  harder  to 
bear — inexpressibly  harder  to  bear.  But  how  un- 
utterably hard  it  was  to  see  his  visions  of  a  rich 
and  variegated  life  in  New  York  vanishing,  of  the 
fine  flow  of  his  new  interests  checked — even  his 
success  imperiled. 

Nevertheless,  stifling  a  tumult  of  protests,  of 
sick  dreads,  that  lay  like  a  swamp  beneath  what 
he  considered  his  duty,  he  asked  Nell  to  marry 
him.  This  was  in  the  parlor,  a  horrible  room  of 
red  plush  furniture  and  frowning  crayon  portraits 
to  which  he  and  Nell  had  retired  for  a  consultation 
while  the  outraged  landlady,  arms  folded,  hovered 
in  the  hallway  outside  like  a  bird  whose  nest  is 
being  violated. 

At  his  stammering  words  Nell  put  her  hands  one 
on  each  of  his  shoulders  and  looked  into  his  eyes 
long  and  searchingly.  Then  slowly  she  shook  her 


130  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

head  and  her  lower  lip  quivered  like  a  child's. 
"No,  my  dear,  I  ain't  the  wife  for  you.  I  've  seen 
this  coming  a  long  while — ever  since  the  day  you 
wrote  those  first  letters  and  Mr.  Powell  made  such 
a  fuss  over  you.  You  're  going  up,  David,  up  and 
up,  and  I  got  to  stick  to  my  own  level.  I  tried  so 
hard  to  understand  those  books  you  were  so  crazy 
about — and  I  could  n't  see  anything  in  them.  And 
it  'd  be  like  that  in  everything.  I  'd  just  hold 
yer  down  and  all  your  swell  new  friends  that  you 
talk  so  much  about  would  laugh  at  me  and  be  sorry 
for  you.  And  David — "  she  turned  her  head 
away  for  she  did  not  want  him  to  see  the  tears  in 
her  eyes — "I  know  you  don't  really  want  to  marry 
me — not  really.  You  're  just  asking  me  because 
you  think  it 's  the  right  thing  to  do.  And  it  's 
awful  nice  of  you — it  's  just  what  I  expected  of 
you  but — I  love  you  too  well,  dear,  to  be  fooled. ' ' 

Her  generosity  stung  David  into  new  avow- 
als, but  Nell's  determination  was  not  to  be 
shaken. 

"I  might  as  well  take  my  medicine  now,  David," 
she  said,  "better  now  than  later  on  when  I  'd  see 
hate  in  every  look  you  gave  me.  I  can  stand  this 
but  I — I  couldn't  stand  that,  David." 

When  he  had  quieted  down,  she  said, ' '  Now  I  've 
got  to  look  for  another  boarding  house." 

"I  can't  stand  another  cheap  boarding  house, 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  131 

Nell.  Let  me  fix  up  a  nice  little  apartment  for 
you.  I  '11  go  to  live  with  Mr.  Powell. ' ' 

She  moved  over  to  the  window  and  drawing 
aside  the  patched  lace  curtains,  stiff  and  blue  from 
many  washings,  stood  gazing  out  into  the  street 
along  which  little  blotches  of  soiled  snow  lay  melt- 
ing in  the  warm  sun.  Presently  without  turning, 
she  said,  "I  Ve  never  taken  any  of  your  money, 
David.  Everything  I  Ve  given  you  I  Ve  given  be- 
cause I  loved  you.  Somehow,  that  's  kept  me 
from  being  ashamed.  I  'm  not  sorry  for  any  of 
it.  Don't  ever  feel  that  you  are  to  blame.  If  you 
ever  think  of  me — and  you  will  sometimes,  won't 
you  f — just  think  that  you  Ve  given  me  more  hap- 
piness than  I  ever  expected  to  have.  And  now, 
good-by,  dear.  You  go  first.  If  we  go  together 
all  the  old  women  upstairs  will  hang  out  their  win- 
dows and  gossip  all  the  more.  Besides  I  want  to 
talk  with  Mrs.  Tupper.  She  's  been  nice  to  me  at 
times  and  I  don't  want  to  leave  her  thinking  I  'm 
altogether  bad." 

David  packed  his  belongings  into  a  taxicab  and 
drove  to  Mr.  Powell's  apartment  on  Lexington 
Avenue,  feeling  that  he  had  behaved  like  a  cad 
and  yet  puzzled  as  to  how  he  might  otherwise  have, 
acted.  Yet,  despite  himself,  he  experienced  an 
overwhelming  sense  of  relief  in  his  liberation. 
New  York  instead  of  Brooklyn,  a  luxurious  bache- 


132  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

lor  apartment  instead  of  the  boarding  house,  John 
Powell  and  his  radiantly  prosperous  friends  in- 
stead of  the  clerks  and  stenographers,  the  gossip- 
ing old  men  and  women — why  it  was  like  being 
born  anew  into  a  golden  world.  And  he  made 
numerous  stern  and  rigid  resolutions. 

Then,  of  a  sudden,  he  dived  down  beneath  the 
taxicab  seat  and  with  great  difficulty  extricated 
one  of  his  traveling  bags.  Opening  it  he  took  out 
a  small  leather  case  and  from  the  case  drew  out  a 
photograph.  It  was  a  faded  photograph,  taken  by 
an  amateur  in  the  days  when  amateur  photog- 
raphy was  very  bad  indeed,  but  dim  and  frayed  as 
it  was  it  showed  David  very  clearly,  as  if  it  were 
taken  yesterday,  a  little  girl  with  straight  spindly 
legs  and  big  serious  eyes  standing  on  a  beach  with 
a  wide  sailor  hat  in  her  hand.  It  was  a  long  time 
since  David  had  looked  upon  that  photograph  .  .  . 
a  long  time  since  he  had  felt  he  wanted  to  look 
upon  it. 


CHAPTER  V 

UNTIL  David's  marriage  he  lived  with  John 
Powell,  for  almost  three  years.  And  he 
found  these  years  more  abundant  and  full  than  he 
had  ever  imagined  they  could  be.  Eventful  years, 
crowded  with  new  sensations,  new  experiences. 
He  learned  very  many  things ;  learned  the  art  of 
associating  with  beautifully  gowned,  charming 
women  and  with  wealthy,  self-confident  men,  busi- 
ness men  mostly  but  occasionally  others — painters, 
journalists,  actors,  dramatists.  He  learned  how 
to  enter  a  fashionable  restaurant  with  non- 
chalance; how  to  order  a  dinner  that  gained  the 
approval  of  the  head- waiter;  how  to  lounge  ele- 
gantly and  at  ease  wherever  he  went  no  matter 
how  distinguished  or  rich  his  host  or  hostess. 
Fortunate  years,  too,  in  which  money  flowed  into 
his  pockets  so  readily  that  he  never  cared  how 
easily  it  flowed  out  again. 

So  the  fairy  tale  of  the  fisherman's  son  rounded 
itself  to  perfection;  he  was  now  a  prince  in  the 
city  and  the  keys  of  the  city  which  opened  all 
doors  to  him  were  in  his  hand.  After  a  year  or 

133 


134  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

two  of  this  life  it  was,  indeed,  hard  to  recognize  in 
David  the  shy  and  diffident  youth  who  long  ago  on 
the  Bay  Eidge  shore  had  dreamed  away  his  early 
years  visioning  the  things  he  would  do  to  serve 
his  fellowmen;  who,  later  in  Brooklyn,  had  fled 
from  one  boarding  house  to  another  in  search  of 
some  alleviation  from  the  sordidness  to  which  ten 
dollars  a  week,  and  seldom  more,  condemned  him. 

As  a  balance  to  the  luxury  and  idleness  of  his 
nights,  there  was  the  work  of  his  days — hard,  un- 
remitting work  which  interested  him  immensely. 
John  Powell  in  the  office  was  an  entirely  different 
man  from  the  John  Powell  who  sat  at  the  head  of 
a  dinner  table  and  saw  that  his  guests  were  di- 
verted and  entertained  and  filled  to  repletion  with 
the  finest  wines  and  foods.  He  was  no  easy  task- 
master. "When  you  work,  work  hard  and  when 
you  play,  play  hard,"  he  told  David,  "but  keep  a 
sharp  line  between  the  two. ' '  And  David  found  it 
amusing  to  picture  John  Powell  playing  hard; 
with  his  immensely  heavy  body  and  his  short  thin 
legs,  he  looked  as  if  he  'd  topple  over  at  the  first 
swift  step;  but  it  was  difficult  to  think  of  him  as 
other  than  working  hard. 

The  affairs  of  B.  Foster  and  Company  had  fash- 
ioned themselves  very  felicitously  for  David's,  or 
rather,  for  John  Powell's  purposes.  While  David 
was  still  living  in  Brooklyn,  old  William  Foster 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  135 

went  out  one  mild  wet  day  without  his  rubbers, 
caught  cold,  and  died  within  a  week.  He  was  the 
head  of  the  concern,  its  founder,  and  of  late  years 
the  chief  impediment  to  its  progress.  He  would 
have  none  of  these  * '  dangerous,  new-fangled  ways 
of  doing  business,"  as  he  called  them.  His  oppo- 
sition to  the  telephone,  to  female  stenographers 
and  clerks,  had  become  legends  around  the  office, 
fables  which  the  older  employees  recounted  to  the 
younger  in  moments  of  confidence.  A  generous 
and  firm  supporter  of  his  church,  a  large  con- 
tributor to  those  charities  of  which  he  approved, 
he  would  rather  have  died,  said  John  Powell,  than 
see  his  firm's  name  attached  to  a  newspaper  ad- 
vertisement. 

Old  William  Foster's  death  left  the  concern  in 
the  hands  of  his  son,  Avery  Foster,  and  of  John 
Powell  who  had  for  years  been  awaiting  this  op- 
portunity. For  Avery  Foster  was — to  quote  John 
Powell  again — ' '  a  weak  sister. ' '  He  was  a  man  of 
forty  nine,  hiding  his  thin,  dull  face  behind  an  um- 
brageous black  beard,  and  he  thought  a  great  deal 
more  of  his  horses  than  he  did  of  his  business. 
He  was  glad  enough  to  let  the  management  slip 
into  the  capable  hands  of  John  Powell,  especially 
when  the  wisdom  of  the  course  was  so  obviously 
shown  in  increased  profits. 

Almost  immediately  after  old  Foster's  death, 


136  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

B.  Foster  and  Company  began  to  advertise  on  so 
large  a  scale  that  it  set  their  competitors  wagging 
their  heads  and  prophesying  ruin  within  a  twelve- 
month. "They  needed  old  Foster,  after  all,  to 
hold  'em  down,"  ran  the  gossip.  "It 's  John 
Powell  doing  this  with  his  crazy  ideas." 

But  when  Avery  Foster,  white  beneath  his  black 
beard,  came  to  Powell  with  reports  of  this  talk, 
the  latter  smiled  grimly,  set  his  teeth,  and  said 
never  a  word — except  to  David,  later.  * '  Damn  old 
fossils,"  he  said.  "They  certainly  got  Avery 
scared.  But  they  can't  even  see  a  thing  when  we 
set  them  the  example,  show  them  the  way.  Well, 
when  they  go  against  the  wall" — he  shrugged  his 
thick  set  shoulders,  and  puffed  away  at  his  cigar 
with  keen  enjoyment. 

John  Powell's  justification  came  even  before  it 
could  be  expected.  The  business  spread  all  over 
the  country ;  a  branch  was  opened  in  Chicago,  an- 
other in  San  Francisco;  instead  of  buying  from 
importers  as  they  had  formerly  done,  their  own 
buyers  were  established  in  China,  in  Japan,  in 
South  America — wherever  one  was  needed,  and 
they  put  up  that  large  red  brick  Foster  Building 
on  the  corner  of  Franklin  and  Hudson  streets 
which  still  dominates  that  district  of  the  City. 

In  all  of  this  growth  and  progress  David  had  a 
hand;  Avery  Foster's  influence  was  almost  negli- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  137 

gible ;  occasionally,  true  to  his  training,  he  uttered 
a  protest,  but  while  John  Powell  appeared  to  give 
these  criticisms  his  attention,  he  never  let  them 
influence  him.  He  forged  ahead  as  if  his  plans 
were  laid  long  ago  while  he  still  chafed  under  old 
William  Foster's  restraint  and  as  if,  now  that  the 
restraint  was  removed,  he  simply  had  to  follow 
the  lines  marked  out  previously. 

It  was  really  in  the  privacy  of  his  own  sitting- 
room  in  his  apartment,  a  big  brown  room  glowing 
with  an  open  fire  and  filled  with  deep  soft  leather 
chairs,  that  the  destinies  of  the  firm  were  molded. 
It  was  there  that  David  and  he  consulted,  some- 
times early  in  the  morning  after  they  had  returned 
from  the  theater  or  a  party  in  one  of  the  res- 
taurants. 

It  was  there,  for  instance,  that  they  decided  on 
the  name  of  a  new  package  coffee — a  name  which 
was  to  flame  at  some  time  or  other  from  every  bill- 
board in  the  country,  to  flash  from  electric  signs, 
to  dance  in  street  cars,  to  emblazon — in  three 
colors — the  back  covers  of  magazines ;  to  become 
eventually  as  familiar  to  the  housewife  as  the 
name  of  her  eldest  born. 

David  had  seen  at  his  printer's  a  short  time 
previously  some  examples  of  the  highly  decorative 
packages  which  the  Germans  were  using  for  their 
food  products  and  that  night  as  they  rode  home 


138  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

from  the  Astor,  he  told  John  Powell  about  them. 

1 '  We  ought  to  put  out  an  orange  and  black  pack- 
age with  an  attractive  name,*'  he  said — they  had 
entered  the  apartment —  "Something  that  when 
it  stands  on  the  grocer's  shelf  can  be  seen  a  mile 
off.  That 's  the  sort  of  advertising  that  's  been 
neglected.  Possibly  because  it  doesn't  cost  any- 
thing and  therefore  its  value  is  not  forced  upon 
us." 

John  Powell  lowered  himself  carefully  into  the 
depths  of  a  big  chair,  shook  off  his  pumps  and, 
leaning  over,  prepared  himself  a  highball  from  the 
whisky,  ice,  and  seltzer  which  the  Japanese  serv- 
ant by  custom  always  left  standing  on  the  table  in 
preparation  for  his  master's  return. 

"What  could  we  call  it,  David?"  he  asked. 
"Got  an  idea?" 

"Not  yet." 

"What 's  the  word  they  always  use  in  connec- 
tion with  coffee — good  coffee  ? ' ' 

"You  mean  aroma?" 

"That  's  it.  Why  can't  we  call  it  'Aroma  Cof- 
fee'?" 

"Too  obvious.  Besides  you  can't  copyright  a 
descriptive  adjective." 

The  two  sipped  their  highballs  thoughtfully, 
gazing  at  the  wood  fire  which  threw  its  warm, 
leaping  light  like  a  huge  fan,  softly  waving  to  and 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  139 

fro  over  the  shadowy  slumberous  brown  walls,  the 
silky  rugs,  the  vivid  Chinese  porcelains  and 
touched  the  Sorolla  so  that  its  lone  figure  stood 
out  like  a  thing  alive.  David  stretched  out  a 
hand  and  seized  a  pad  and  pencil  from  the 
adjacent  desk.  He  wrote  various  words  upon 
the  white  paper,  stopping  occasionally  to  gaze  at 
his  work  as  a  painter  squints  at  his  canvas. 

1  'How  's  that?"  he  asked,  holding  the  pad  so 
that  John  Powell  could  see  the  single  word  he  had 
placed  in  large  letters  upon  a  fresh  sheet.  "  Just 
by  placing  an  'M'  in  front  of  ' aroma '  we  get  a 
good  name — 'Maroma.'  " 

"Damn  good!"  said  John  Powell,  after  a  mo- 
ment's consideration. 

'  *  Shall  I  go  ahead  with  the  design  of  the  labels  ? ' ' 

' '  Sure !  We  '11  give  'em  that  Connoisseur 
Blend.  It  's  cheap  and  a  fine  flavor  but  it  never 
took  under  its  old  name.  People  did  n't  know  how 
to  pronounce  it." 

He  drew  on  his  cigar  slowly,  his  eyes  half  closed. 
Presently  without  moving,  he  said,  "We  Ve 
traveled  a  long  way,  David,  you  and  I,  the  last  few 
years.  But  we  're  going  farther,  much  farther. 
We  're  not  through  yet — not  by  a  long  shot.  You 
just  stick  to  me.  I  need  you  and  I  'm  willing  to 
pay  you  what  you  rre  worth.  How  much  are  you 
getting  now  f ' ' 


140  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"Six  thousand." 

"Satisfied?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that  isn't  the  stopping  place,  under- 
stand. I  '11  get  you  into  the  firm  one  of  these 
days.  But  don't  get  married.  That  '11  end  it  all. 
Takes  the  go  out  of  a  man,  all  the  creative  power" 
— he  waved  his  hand — "kills  his  imagination." 


CHAPTER  VI 

SO  swift  was  the  rush  of  events  the  first  two 
years  David  spent  in  New  York,  so  breath- 
lessly was  his  day  filled  from  the  time  the  Japa- 
nese valet  called  him  in  the  morning  till  he  fell 
into  bed  again  usually  long  after  midnight,  that 
he  had  no  leisure  for  thought.  For  two  years 
he  did  not  ask  himself  those  familiar  questions, 
"Is  this  it?  Is  this  what  I  want  out  of  life?" 

The  changing  seasons  flew  by,  winter  flowed  into 
spring,  spring  melted  into  summer,  and  he  was 
barely  conscious  of  their  passing. 

But  even  the  charm  of  work  that  called  for  all 
the  imagination  he  could  give  it  and  even  the 
novelty  of  living  with  all  the  careless  and  beauti- 
ful ease  that  money  can  buy,  palled  in  time.  He 
discovered  a  flaw  in  the  golden  and  overflowing 
cup  from  which  he  now  drank. 

He  still  thrilled  to  John  Powell's  talk  of  na- 
tional commercial  conquests,  of  the  completion  of 
order  and  efficiency  in  a  business  in  which  there 
had  been  little  but  chaos  and  blundering,  but  John 
Powell  was  often  away  of  late  on  trips  to  the 

141 


142  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Chicago  branch  or  the  San  Francisco  branch,  and 
while  he  was  away  affairs  did  not  run  so  industri- 
ously down  at  the  big  new  building  of  B.  Foster 
and  Company.  With  the  main  dynamo  absent 
the  machinery  slackened  a  little ;  the  clerks  did  not 
rush  so  quickly  from  desk  to  desk  with  their 
papers;  the  office  manager  was  less  strict  about 
punching  the  time  clocks;  even  the  porters  down 
in  the  shipping  rooms  loaded  the  bags  and  boxes 
upon  the  waiting  line  of  motor  trucks  with  less 
vivacity.  And  almost  unconsciously  David  found 
himself  a  party  to  this  general  letting  up  in  the 
pace.  Often  he  sat  idle  at  his  desk  while  old 
doubts  and  resolutions  long  dormant,  began  to  as- 
sert themselves. 

One  day — it  was  a  day  of  young  April  and  from 
the  window  at  which  he  sat  he  could  see  the  roofs 
of  the  City  glimmering  after  a  shower  which  had 
been  quickly  succeeded  by  dazzling  sunlight — he 
caught  himself  wondering  whether  there  was  not 
more  to  life  than  this  piling  up  of  profits,  this  mad 
desire  to  make  money,  more  and  more  money,  dis- 
guise the  game  as  you  would  under  such  high 
sounding  names  as  efficiency  and  creative  business 
enterprise.  He  realized  that  he  had  in  a  modest 
way  achieved  that  ambition  which  had  been  born 
of  dark  waters  and  a  tortured  soul,  the  ambition 
to  make  himself  a  material  success,  to  prove  that 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  143 

he  could  be  such  a  success.  And  now  he  was 
hungry  for  some  other  purpose.  A  great  and  un- 
mistakable void  had  opened  up  within  him.  He 
needed  a  purpose,  a  worthy  purpose  to  set  him  go- 
ing again.  But  what  purpose? 

He  found,  too,  in  this  new  phase  of  questioning, 
that  he  was  beginning  .to  lose  his  enthusiasm  for 
the  dinner  parties,  the  dances,  the  entire  round  of 
gay  festivities,  enacted  chiefly  in  the  restaurants, 
which  at  first  had  seemed  so  brilliant  and  so  allur- 
ing, so  completely — yes,  he  confessed  it — the  aim 
and  end  of  existence.  The  smart  chatter  of  well- 
dressed,  well-gowned  people,  the  sophisticated 
comments  on  plays  and  books  and  morals  and  on 
life  generally,  that  had  once  impressed  him  with 
their  cleverness  and  intelligence,  now  had  a  hollow 
ring  to  his  ears. 

At  this  time,  too,  he  became  quite  well  ac- 
quainted with  Evelyn  Foster,  the  daughter  of  the 
senior  partner,  and,  after  listening  so  long  to  the 
innuendoes  and  self-revelations  of  the  women  to 
whom  John  Powell  had  introduced  him,  he  found 
her  innocence  and  naivete  wonderfully  attrac- 
tive. .  .  . 

He  passed  several  months  in  this  state  with  a 
feeling  of  hopeless  futility. 

John  Powell  celebrated  his  return  from  San 


144  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Francisco  by  having  a  dinner  party  in  his  own 
apartment.  He  had  the  dinner  served  by  a  fa- 
mous restaurant  and  from  the  wide  circle  of  his 
friends  he  picked  the  flower  to  grace  his  board  that 
night. 

"I  want  them  all  to  be  good  sports,"  he  said  to 
David,  the  evening  of  the  dinner.  ' '  This  is  going 
to  be  a  real  party.  I  Ve  been  planning  it  all  the 
way  back  from  the  coast. '  ' 

* '  You  are  counting  on  me  f ' '  asked  David. 

"Of  course  I  'm  counting  on  you." 

"I  wish  you  'd  let  me  out  of  it." 

John  Powell  scrutinized  him  from  beneath  his 
heavy  eyebrows.  "What 's  the  matter?  111?" 

David  shook  his  head.  "Just  out  of  sorts. 
I  'm  getting  so  tired — so  deadly  tired  of  this  sort 
of  thing. ' ' 

John  Powell  tipped  his  cigar  at  an  acute  angle. 
"In  love!"  he  shot  at  David. 

David  did  not  answer  and  after  a  pause,  John 
Powell  swung  on  his  heel  and  threw  over  his  shoul- 
der: "We  '11  talk  this  over  after  the  party. 
There  's  not  time  now.  But  I  hope  you  '11  stick. 
It  '11  be  damn  inconvenient  if  you  leave  a  place 
vacant  now." 

So  David  "stuck." 

It  was  the  type  of  party  which  a  few  months  ago 
would  have  left  him  breathless  with  anticipation. 
It  was  made  up  of  what  some  New  York  satirist 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  145 

once  called,  "Owe  best  lobster  palace  society." 
Strange  creatures  these,  who  live  in  small  rooms 
tucked  away  in  huge  hotels  so  that  they  may 
emerge  into  the  rosy  glare  of  restaurants  and 
theaters,  gowned  in  silks  and  velvets,  brilliant  with 
diamonds,  dragging  their  males  after  them ;  whose 
only  interests  are  eating  and  drinking  and  gossip- 
ing, seeing  and  being  seen;  who  in  summer  fly 
from  the  heat  of  the  city  to  some  resort  which  as 
nearly  as  possible  approximates  their  beloved 
Broadway — Atlantic  City,  Long  Beach  or,  if  they 
have  funds  sufficient,  some  French  watering  place. 
There  came  to  John  Powell's  rooms  that  night 
— it  was  late  September — Lily  Carello,  formerly 
of  grand  opera  but  now,  owing  to  a  fondness  for 
sweets  and  wine,  uplifting  the  comic  opera  stage ; 
her  husband,  Lester  Ford,  the  novelist;  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Clarence  Pettit,  whose  entrance  in  a  restau- 
rant was  the  signal  for  all  the  headwaiters  to  rush 
forward  and  bow ;  there  came  also  Paul  DeWay,  a 
ghost  of  a  man  with  sunken  eyes  and  thin  sneering 
lips,  who,  it  was  claimed  by  his  friends,  had  the 
cleverest  tongue  in  New  York ;  Mrs.  Arthur  Jack- 
son, a  dowdy  middle-aged  woman  whose  antics 
were  the  delight  of  the  yellow  newspapers ;  Harold 
Lee,  who  was  doing  his  utmost  to  do  away  with  the 
fortune  his  father  had  left  him ;  and,  in  addition, 
three  young  women  who  belonged  neither  to  the 


146  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

stage  nor  society  but  by  considerable  dexterity 
managed  to  maintain  a  foothold  somewhere  be- 
tween the  two. 

A  typical  gathering,  thought  David  bitterly,  as 
he  sat  back  in  his  chair  surveying  them  while  the 
waiters  sent  by  the  restaurant,  placed  mushrooms, 
filet  of  sole,  breast  of  young  turkey  and  numerous 
other  things  before  him  and  kept  his  glasses  filled 
to  the  brim  with  sparkling  wines,  red  and  white 
and  pale  gold.  A  typical  gathering  on  which  all 
the  high  ambitions,  the  lofty  purposes  of  his  youth 
were  shipwrecked,  lost. 

While  the  talk  bubbled  and  laughed  with  the 
champagne,  while  Lily  Carello  sang  in  a  throaty 
voice,  one  of  Musetta's  arias — a  part  which  had 
helped  to  make  her  famous — John  Powell  sat  at 
the  head  of  the  table,  his  head  a  little  to  one  side, 
smiling  slightly  as  if  he  were  an  emperor  who  had 
commanded  these  people  to  come  before  him  and 
amuse  him.  And,  indeed,  he  had.  With  his 
money,  which  was  power,  he  had  spread  this  feast 
before  them,  set  them  dancing,  their  tongues  fever- 
ishly clacking  for  his  amusement.  David  thought 
he  detected  beneath  John  Powell's  smile  a  shade 
of  derision,  of  contempt,  as  he  gave  his  ear  to 
Lily  Carello,  who  with  upraised,  clasped  hands, 
whispered  to  him. 

The  waiters,  moving  with  incredible  softness 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  147 

and  rapidity,  cleared  away  the  debris  of  the  din- 
ner and  left  little  gold-banded  cups  of  black  coffee 
and  tiny  thimble-like  glasses  and  crystal  bottles 
shining  with  deeply,  beautifully  colored  brandies. 
David  studied  the  waiters  to  see  if  they,  too,  were 
contemptuous  of  these  people  whom  they  served 
so  skilfully,  but  their  white  smooth  faces  were 
blank  with  an  ecstasy  of  devotion;  they  did  not 
seem  to  have  any  eyes. 

Presently  the  three  colored  musicians  who  had 
played  discreetly  all  during  dinner  struck  up  a 
loud  and  quick  refrain ;  the  harpist  threw  back  his 
head  and  attacked  the  strings  as  if  he  had  sud- 
denly gone  mad ;  the  violinist  swayed  to  and  fro ; 
the  banjoist  beat  on  his  instrument  as  if  he  were 
sounding  a  summons  in  the  depths  of  an  African 
forest. 

The  floor  was  cleared  and  every  one  arose,  found 
a  partner,  and  whirled  around  in  an  abandon  of 
movement.  .  .  . 

It  was  after  four  when  the  last  taxicab  waiting 
below  clattered  away. 

John  Powell  caught  David's  arm.  " Don't  go 
to  bed,"  he  said;  ''I  want  to  talk  with  you.  Now 
tell  me  what 's  the  matter  with  you. ' ' 

"Nothing  's  the  matter  except  that  I  'm  thor- 
oughly sick  of  this  sort  of  life — like  to-night.  I 
want  something  more  decent,  less  artificial. ' ' 


148  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"You  've  got  your  work,  have  n't  you?  That 's 
decent  enough,  isn't  it ?" 

"Yes,  but  even  that  in  the  last  analysis  is  noth- 
ing more  nor  less  than  making  money.  I  'd  like 
to  do  something  that  would  do  people  good,  would 
make — oh,  it  sounds  awfully  foolish,  I  know — but 
that  would  make  the  world  a  better  place  to  live 
in." 

"The  trouble  is  you  Ve  had  too  much  time  on 
your  hands  while  I  've  been  away,"  said  John 
Powell  savagely.  "You  Ve  been  brooding — and 
you  're  young.  Got  too  much  idealism  left. 
Don't  you  know  there  's  nothing  in  idealism — 
just  dream  stuff — never  gets  you  anywhere.  Look 
at  the  reformers  when  they  get  in  office — just 
make  a  mess  of  things,  just  putter.  It  's  the 
trained  politicians  who  give  us  a  good  govern- 
ment. What  if  they  do  get  their  little  graft  for 
doing  it?  It  's  the  men  who  take  off  their  coats 
and  get  to  work  without  any  thought  of  ideals  or 
reforms  that  accomplish  things." 

"Those  people  who  were  here  to-night  are  not 
accomplishing  much." 

"Do  you  imagine  I  take  them  seriously?  If  I 
did  I  would  n't  have  them  here.  I  want  relief,  re- 
laxation, so  I  can  go  back  to  work  to-morrow  re- 
freshed, renewed.  Study  people,  make  use  of 
them,  this  man  for  this  purpose,  that  woman  for 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  149 

that  purpose.  But  don't  let  them  make  use  of 
you.  That 's  my  philosophy. ' ' 

* '  That 's  why  you  're  making  use  of  me  ? " 

"Sure,  it  is.  But  it  's  paying  you,  isn't  it? 
Besides,  that  is  n't  why  I  asked  you  to  come  and 
live  with  me.  I  liked  you.  I  was  weak  enough  to 
feel  that  I  needed  some  one  to  whom  I  could  give 
a  little  more  of  myself  than  I  gave  to  the  mob  of 
them — and  that  's  my  confidence.  And  now 
you  're  thinking  of  chucking  me." 

He  was  walking  excitedly  up  and  down  the  room 
with  short,  jerky  steps.  His  large  face  was  very 
red  with  the  wine  he  had  drunk,  and  David  thought 
that  he  looked  more  than  ever  like  Mr.  Punch. 
But  he  found  no  amusement  in  the  thought. 

After  a  brief  silence,  Powell  turned  on  him 
again  with:  "Who  's  the  girl?" 

"What  girl?" 

"Oh,  there  's  some  girl,  some  sweet,  young  thing 
responsible  for  all  these  new  fancies  of  yours. ' ' 

David  hesitated,  decided  not  to  name  her,  and 
impulsively  came  out  with :  "It 's  Evelyn  Foster." 

"That  milk-face?  Why,  she  's  like  her  father. 
She  's  not  a  girl;  she  's  a  pattern." 

"Please — "  began  David. 

But  John  Powell,  his  face  still  more  flushed,  cut 
him  short  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  "Don't  ex- 
pect me  to  sentimentalize,  my  boy.  I  'm  too  old. 


150  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Purity,  innocence,  sweet  girlish  charm — why,  my 
God,  David,  if  you  marry  her  she  '11  make  you 
walk  a  path  so  narrow  you  '11  never  be  able  to  look 
around  you — just  ahead,  always  straight  ahead. 
Whatever  put  her  into  your  head?  Ambition?" 

"You  mean,  am  I  marrying  her  because  she  's 
Avery  Foster 's  daughter  f ' ' 

"Yes." 

David  clenched  his  fists.    ' '  I  wish  she  were  n  't. " 

"You  '11  get  ahead  all  right  without  that  boost. 
I '11  see  to  that." 

1  '  You  don 't  understand. ' ' 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  David,  don't  spring  that 
old  romantic  stuff.  Let 's  talk  like  men — not  like 
heroes  of  a  second-rate  melodrama.  I  understand 
all  right.  She  's  caught  you  in  the  net  of  her 
gentle  pose  of  knowing  nothing  about  this  horrible 
world.  My  God,  nobody  has  the  right  to  claim 
any  virtue  for  knowing  nothing  at  this  stage  of 
existence.  Damned  ignorance,  I  call  it.  Worse 
than  ignorance — damn  pretense.  Nobody  can  help 
knowing  things  what  with  newspapers  and  books 
full  of  sex,  sex,  sex,  as  if  there  were  nothing  else. 
I  know  Evelyn  Foster,  know  her  well.  She  's  her 
grandfather  all  over  again.  'No,  we  can't  do 
that,  I  'm  afraid.  It  isn't  ethical.'  I  can  hear 
her  saying  it  now  just  as  he  used  to  say  it — hold- 
ing things  back,  blocking  'em,  keeping  you  from 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  151 

growing,  growing,  growing.  Don't  I  know! 
Didn't  I  have  twenty  years  of  it?  And  now 
you  're  letting  yourself  in  for  the  same  thing. 
And  marriage  is  a  much  more  ticklish  affair  than 
business,  David." 

Presently  in  his  perambulations  he  came  to  a 
halt  beside  David  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der. UI  'd  rather  see  you  marry  that  Honeywell 
girl  who  was  here  to-night.  She  's  fast  as  Hell 
but  she  knows  men — knows  they  can't  be  tied  down 
to  a  perfectly  respectable  life — and  keep  growing. 
Evelyn  's  an  angel — an  ignorant  angel.  They  're 
the  hardest  kind.  Think  it  over,  David." 

He  waited  but  David  did  not  speak,  so  he  said, 
"Well,  I  'm  going  to  bed.  Good  night." 

David  did  not  move  for  some  time  after  John 
Powell  had  left  him.  He  sat  staring  at  the  burnt- 
out  embers  of  the  wood  fire  and  he  was  thinking 
as  he  had  thought  so  many  times  of  late,  ever  since 
he  had  come  to  know  Evelyn  Foster,  how  utterly 
sick  at  heart  he  was  of  this  pagan  life  he  had  been 
living.  Of  its  uselessness.  Of  its  purposeless- 
ness.  Two  years  of  it.  More  than  two  years  of 
it,  for  he  supposed  ever  since  he  had  left  Bay 
Ridge,  abandoning  the  idealism  of  his  youth,  he 
had  lived  a  pagan  life,  an  absolutely  material  life 
in  which  his  whole  idea,  the  one  thing  which  had 
animated  him,  had  been  to  forge  ahead,  to  be  a 


152  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

success.  And  this  silly  snatching  at  pleasure, 
dead  fruit  from  a  metal  tree.  Where  had  it  led 
him?  To  such  women  as  Lena  Honeywell,  to  such 
a  life  as  to-night's  party  had  typified. 

And  David  thought  of  all  the  women  he  had 
known.  A  troop  of  rustling,  smiling  shadows 
flitted  by.  First,  Nora  Davenport,  dear  Nora — 
she  was,  indeed,  a  shadow  now,  worn  almost  into 
oblivion  by  the  many  impressions  that  had 
crowded  to  efface  her.  And  he  thought  next — a 
little  sadly  and  furtively — of  Nell  Ferguson.  He 
had  never  ceased  to  reproach  himself  (when  he 
thought  of  it  which,  alas,  was  not  often!)  of  the 
part  he  had  played  in  Nell's  life,  although  she 
had  told  him  never  to  blame  himself.  Perhaps 
that  was  why  he  did  reproach  himself,  because  of 
her  generosity,  her  unbelievable  unselfishness. 

He  never  saw  Nell  now.  She  had  left  B.  Foster 
and  Company's  employ,  sought  a  position  else- 
where. Perhaps  because  of  him,  perhaps  because 
she  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  him  as  a  stranger. 

Then  he  thought  of  that  gay  and  seductive 
creature  John  Powell  had  called  the  Honeywell 
girl.  But  he  thought  but  briefly  of  her;  there 
were  too  many  others  like  her ;  women  of  a  night, 
of  a  mad  week — of  a  season's  infatuation  perhaps. 

Last  he  thought  of  Evelyn  Foster.  She  seemed 
like  a  tender  and  delicate  flower,  white-petaled, 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  153 

fresh,  fragile,  against  the  background  of  gleaming, 
passionate  blooms  he  had  known.  The  thought  of 
her  was  like  a  wave  of  air  deliciously  fragrant, 
breaking  over  him. 

"If  only  I  were  half  good  enough  for  her,"  he 
muttered  bitterly. 

But  he  felt  he  was  not — never  could  be;  the 
slate  of  his  life  was  heavily  marked  and  scratched. 
And  still  he  could  not  help  but  hope. 

She  could  aid  him  to  start  anew — if  she  only 
would — to  begin  all  over  again,  to  generate  a  new 
and  useful,  decent  life — simple,  sincere,  fine. 

Into  that  room  sickly  with  the  atmosphere  of 
dead  flowers  and  burnt  cigarettes,  flickering  with 
the  dimness  of  pink-shaded  candles,  crept  the 
clear  light  of  morning.  David  lifted  his  eyes  to  it 
with  a  tense  expression  on  his  face.  As  that  pure 
light  came  into  the  murkiness  of  the  room  so  would 
Evelyn  come  into  his  life,  he  thought. 

And  with  that  image  of  her,  he  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTEE  VII 

AS  far  back  as  the  days  in  which  he  had  slaved 
away  at  the  billing  desk,  David  had  caught 
visions  of  Evelyn  Foster.  She  occasionally  came 
to  the  office  to  meet  her  father,  to  accompany  him 
home  or  perhaps,  to  lunch  with  him.  A  fair  visi- 
tor from  another  world  she  had  seemed  to  David 
in  those  days,  a  being  remote  and  alien,  one  of  the 
blessed  few  who  dwelt  in  the  clouds  while  he  toiled 
with  the  millions  bound  to  the  earth.  Once  when 
he  was  struggling  in  a  jam  of  people  trying  to 
fight  his  way  to  a  trolley  car  at  the  New  York  end 
of  Brooklyn  Bridge,  he  had  seen  her  handling  the 
reins  of  her  smart  little  trap,  taking  her  father 
home,  while  the  groom,  arms  folded,  sat  behind, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  he  was  only  one  of  thousands 
who  followed  her  with  envious  eyes. 

She  was  quite  young  when  he  had  seen  her  first, 
for  he  remembered  her  hair  worn  in  a  loosely  tied 
strand  hanging  down  her  back.  Beautiful  hair  it 
was,  of  a  gold  so  pale  it  was  more  silver  than 
gold. 

Later,  of  course,  as  he  rose  from  the  ranks,  he 
came  to  meet  her.  It  was  after  he  was  made  ad- 

154 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  155 

vertising  manager  of  the  concern  that  Mr.  Foster 
first  introduced  him  to  her.  She  wore  her  hair 
high  on  her  head,  then,  partially  concealed  beneath 
a  little,  round,  black  fox  hat  that  added  sheen  and 
luster  to  the  silvery-gold  hair ;  and  he  remembered 
how  the  color  mounted  to  her  thin  and  delicate 
cheeks  as  she  said,  "I  begged  father  to  introduce 
me,  Mr.  Wells.  He  says  you  Ve  done  so  many 
wonderful  things  in  the  business.  I  don't  quite 
understand  what — I  'm  awfully  stupid  about  busi- 
ness. Won't  you  come  to  tea  some  afternoon  and 
tell  me  something  about  it  I " 

She  telephoned  him  a  day  or  two  later,  repeat- 
ing the  invitation  and  naming  an  afternoon. 

He  went  only  to  be  so  impressed,  so  awed  by  the 
big  brown  Foster  house  on  Brooklyn  Heights,  by 
the  butler  in  livery  and  by  the  chattering,  high- 
voiced  group  of  young  people  surrounding  Evelyn 
Foster,  that  he  got  no  enjoyment  out  of  the  event. 
Afternoon  teas,  butlers,  and  young  ladies  with  a 
distinguished  manner  were  altogether  beyond  him 
at  that  time — he  was  still  living  in  the  boarding 
house  in  Brooklyn  and  had  not  yet  profited  by  the 
example  of  the  restaurant  society  of  New  York. 
He  tried  to  pretend  he  was  enjoying  the  tea  with 
lemon  in  it  that  Miss  Foster  handed  him  and  that 
he  understood  the  conversation  about  dances  and 
country  clubs  and  motors,  but  he  knew  that  his 


156  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

pretense  was  a  poor  success.  And  he  was  ab- 
surdly conscious  of  a  button  that  somehow,  at  this 
most  unfortunate  moment,  had  detached  itself 
from  the  coat  of  his  blue  sack  suit. 

"I  say,  old  man,  don't  you  think  the  French  cars 
have  it  all  over  the  American?"  said  a  youth  be- 
side him,  in  a  dark  gray,  tight-fitting  cutaway. 

"I  don't  know,"  David  confessed,  conscious 
that  the  youth  gave  his  answer  a  disgusted  stare. 

But  despite  the  failure  of  that  encounter,  David 
did  not  lose  interest  in  Evelyn  Foster,  nor  she  in 
him.  The  next  time  she  invited  him  to  tea,  which 
was  some  months  later,  he  had  moved  to  New 
York.  And  one  of  the  first  things  he  bought  was 
an  afternoon  coat  of  dark  gray.  So  he  went  to 
the  big  Foster  house  with  assurance,  confident 
that  he  would  meet  Evelyn  Foster's  friends  on 
their  own  ground.  But  he  found  her  alone  except 
for  her  mother,  a  stout,  matronly  woman,  who 
talked  of  the  weather  and  how  much  she  admired 
wholesome  young  men,  in  such  a  pleasant  and 
commonplace  way  that  she  did  not  frighten  him  in 
the  least  .  .  .  and  after  a  little  while  she  withdrew 
unobtrusively. 

The  rear  windows  of  the  Foster  house  opened 
on  the  harbor,  and  the  sun  had  fallen  behind  the 
huge  pile  of  buildings  opposite,  leaving  a  long 
string  of  gray  clouds  against  a  sky  that  was  like  a 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  157 

strip  of  salmon-colored  silk.  A  pageant  of  boats, 
black  against  the  dark  blue  water,  constantly 
passed  up  and  down,  and  presently  David  found 
himself  telling  the  girl  opposite  him  of  how,  as  a 
child,  he  had  sat  upon  the  rocks  of  the  Bay  Eidge 
shore,  and  tried  to  imagine  what  the  City  would 
come  to  mean  to  him. 

She  listened  intently,  her  lips  slightly  parted, 
the  lace  on  her  bosom  falling  and  rising  slightly 
with  her  breathing. 

"Is  n't  it  splendid, "  she  said,  "that  your  dreamo 
should  come  true — that  you  should  come  to  the 
City  and  conquer — make  a  name  for  yourself — 
create  success  out  of  nothing?" 

"A  very  modest  name — a  very  small  success." 

"Oh,  but  you  are  just  beginning" — she  leaned 
towards  him  with  clasped  hands —  1 1  Father  says 
you  have  such  good  ideas  and  that  Mr.  Powell 
1  eaves  so  much  in  your  hands  for  you  to  carry 
through. ' ' 

"But  his  are  the  ideas!" 

"I  know,  but  I  am  sure  putting  them  into  exe- 
cution is  half  the  task.  I  suppose  you  are  very 
fond  of  Mr.  Powell.  You  are  living  with  him  now, 
are  n't  you?" 

"Yes.    He  7s  the  biggest  man  I  Ve  ever  met." 

"You  '11  think  it  very  silly  of  me  to  criticize," 
she  said  with  a  little  self-deprecating  movement 


158  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

of  her  hands.  ''While  I  admire  him,  I  don't  like 
him.  He  gives  me  the  impression  that  he  would 
stop  at  nothing  to  gain  his  ends.  He  's  so  ag- 
gressive and  so — well,  so  uncouth.  I  don't  believe 
he  thinks  of  anything  but  money.  As  if  there 
weren't  so  many  bigger,  finer  things  in  the  world 
.  .  .  things  of  the  spirit — it  's  so  hard  to  express 
what  I  mean." 

"I  think  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  David 
huskily,  and  he  thought,  beautiful  as  the  harbor 
was  in  the  afterglow  of  sunset,  she  was  more  beau- 
tiful ;  in  her  white  dress,  she  was  like  a  silver  spirit 
drooping  in  the  wicker  chair. 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  would  rather  come  here 
while  I  was  alone,"  her  voice  went  on  a  little  hesi- 
tantly, broken  most  charmingly  into  halting  syl- 
lables. "You  didn't  feel  at  home  with  all  that 
crowd  before,  did  you?  I  don't  blame  you. 
Strangers  always  embarrass  me,  too.  But  then 
father  and  mother  have  always  kept  me  so  shel- 
tered from  people — from  people  and  things — too 
much  sheltered,  I  sometimes  think." 

"I  haven't  been  sheltered,"  laughed  David. 

"No,  of  course,  you  have  n't.  But  then  there  's 
no  reason  why  you  should  be.  It  's  different  with 
a  girl  ...  I  don't  suppose  girls  should  know  too 
much  about  life  ...  it 's  so  horrid  really,  isn't 
it?" 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  159 

And  David  thought  how  delicious  it  would  be  to 
take  her  frail  body  in  his  arms  and  protect  her 
forevermore  from  the  advancing  forces  of  life, 
the  things  that  were — indeed,  he  knew  too  well ! — 
"horrid,"  bestially  "horrid." 

But  intimate  as  that  conversation  had  seemed, 
David  did  not  see  much  of  Evelyn  Foster  for  a 
year  or  two.  His  new  life  in  New  York  occupied 
him  so  thoroughly  that  he  made  no  attempt  to  see 
her,  but  she  stayed  in  the  hinterland  of  his  con- 
sciousness, a  very  charming  and  restful  personal- 
ity. Then,  one  summer,  she  invited  him  to  spend 
a  week  down  at  her  father's  country  place  on  Long 
Island,  and  these  seven  days,  filled  with  bathing 
and  sailing  parties,  of  evenings  on  a  moonlit 
veranda  and  long  walks  by  day  along  the  sand 
dunes,  brought  them  much  nearer  together. 

That  was  the  summer  he  experienced  his  first 
reaction  from  the  gay  life  to  which  John  Powell 
had  introduced  him,  and  Evelyn  Foster  seemed  to 
personify  all  the  things  to  which  he  had  set  his 
eyes  in  contrast  with  all  the  things  which  had 
grown  nauseating  to  him. 

At  first,  of  course,  he  had  no  more  idea  of 
marrying  her  than  the  mariner  has  of  possess- 
ing the  star  which  guides  his  course.  She  was 
utterly  unattainable.  She  was  like  a  water  lily 
blossoming  over  the  brackish  waters  of  the  pool 


160  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

— the  muddy  pool — which  his  life  had  become. 

But  as  that  summer  passed  and  the  autumn  ad- 
vanced— an  autumn  so  protracted  that  it  held 
summer's  ardor  in  a  cooler  clasp  until  far  in  De- 
cember— he  began  to  hope  and  to  wonder.  Eve- 
lyn's soft  and  elusive  personality  began  to  domi- 
nate his  thoughts,  to  fill  his  brain  with  a  very 
sweet  and  intoxicating  perfume. 

She  was  kind  to  him.  It  was  a  constant  marvel 
to  him  how  kind  she  was.  Once  he  said  to  her, 
"Could  you  forgive — many  unforgivable  things 
in  a  man's  life,  Evelyn?  Things  that  he  does 
not  realize  the  hideousness  of  until  he  meets  an 
absolutely  good  and  innocent  woman?" 

She  flushed  a  little  as  if  the  subject  were  dis- 
tasteful to  her  and  gave  him  a  wide  and  uncom- 
prehending stare.  But  presently  a  little  tremu- 
lously she  said,  "I  'm  so  ignorant  of  the  forces 
that  govern  a  man's  life — and  of  the  temptations 
that  beset  him.  But  I  do  realize  that  a  man  is 
fashioned  differently  from  a  woman — is  less  ac- 
countable perhaps,  is  sometimes  forced  into 
things." 

He  took  courage  at  her  words  and  set  forth  to 
press  his  suit  with  swift  purpose.  He  was  amazed 
that  his  Goddess  combined  such  wisdom  with  such 
innocence. 

And  when  he  asked  her  to  marry  him  one  March 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  161 

afternoon  she  consented  very  simply,  very  sweetly. 
"I  knew  that  you  were  going  to  ask  me  some  day, 
David,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at  him  although  her 
eyes  were  wet  with  tears.  "I  shan't  make  any  of 
the  silly  remarks  a  woman  is  supposed  to  make  at 
a  proposal.  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  marry  you,  my 
dear." 

To  David's  further  surprise  there  was  no  op- 
position on  the  part  of  either  Mr.  Foster  or  his 
wife.  It  was  not  until  later  that  David  learned 
that  their  opinions  concerning  their  daughter's 
interest  and  affairs  were  supplied  them,  for  the 
greater  part,  by  the  daughter  herself. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

you  've  committed  yourself!"  cried  John 
Powell,  when  David  told  him  of  his  engage- 
ment. "Well,  I  suppose  it  had  to  be.  But  I  'm 
damned  if  I  '11  congratulate  you.  Why  should  I? 
What  are  you  to  be  congratulated  on?  You  're 
through  with  progress — that  's  what  you  are. 
Don't  I  know  Evelyn  Foster?  Haven't  I  seen 
her  grow  up  to  own  her  father  and  mother,  body 
and  soul,  to  start  them  dancing  at  her  bidding  as 
if  they  were  dolls  stuffed  with  sawdust?  She  's 
been  petted  and  pampered  all  her  life.  She  's  the 
final  personification  of  all  this  American  sentimen- 
talism  about  women — a  sweet  girly  girl,  crowned 
as  if  she  were  an  empress,  treated  as  if  she  were  a- 
goddess.  I  don't  know  that  it  's  all  her  fault. 
Circumstances  have  made  her.  Now  she  's  tak- 
ing you  for  a  husband  because  she  thinks  she  can 
run  you  as  she  runs  her  parents.  You  '11  be  more 
of  a  waiter  than  a  husband. ' ' 

"She  's  marrying  me  because  she  loves  me," 
said  David  stoutly.  "What  other  reason  could 
she  have  t  Who  am  I  ?  What  can  I  offer  her  that 
she  does  not  already  possess  ? ' ' 

162 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  163 

"Oh,  as  for  that,  she  's  probably  come  to  care 
for  you  somewhat.  All  emotion  has  n't  been  flat- 
tered out  of  her.  And  you  're  too  modest.  There 
are  a  lot  of  things  about  you  that  make  you  a  de- 
sirable possession.  You  Ve  got  a  good-looking 
face  and  a  well  set  up  body  and  a  fair  intelligence. 
You  're  amiable  and  kind  and  in  evening  clothes 
you  almost  look  like  a  gentleman.  What  more 
could  Evelyn  Foster  ask  for?  If  she  were  poor, 
she  'd  demand  money  in  addition.  But  she  's  got 
more  money  than  she  '11  ever  need  and  so  you  're 
a  logical  selection.  Probably  you  're  still  a  little 
rude  and  uncouth,  as  she  'd  put  it,  but  she  '11  enjoy 
polishing  and  shining  you  and  making  you  a  deco- 
ration to  the  home  and  an  ornament  to  society. ' ' 

David  laughed.  "I  bought  my  first  cutaway  to 
go  to  one  of  her  teas. ' ' 

'  *  And  by  that  showed  her  you  were  amenable  to 
her  requirements" — he  sat  puffing  at  his  cigar 
thoughtfully,  his  face  set  in  a  scowl,  his  heavy  jaw 
pressed  against  the  chest  that  rose  to  meet  it. 
Presently  he  lifted  his  fist  and  brought  it  down 
with  a  resounding  crash  on  the  table.  "Where 
will  go  all  our  big  plans  and  projects  now !  Bang ! 
Exploded !  Up  into  the  thin  air.  I  '11  have  two 
reactionaries  in  the  firm  of  B.  Foster  and  Com- 
pany to  deal  with  now.  It  's  a  hell  of  a  way  to 
pay  me  back  for  the  interest  I  've  taken  in  you — 


164  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

a  selfish  interest,  I  admit — I  saw  I  could  use 
you. ' ' —  He  quieted  again  and  finally  gave  a  long 
sigh  of  resignation.  "Well,  I  can  see  your  side 
of  it.  I  don't  suppose  I  ought  to  blame  you. 
Why  should  you  worry  about  anything?  You 
said  your  ambition  was  to  be  a  successful  business 
man  and  now  you  're  capping  that  ambition  by 
marrying  a  rich  wife.  You  '11  run  around  in  your 
motor,  you  '11  go  with  the  best  people,  as  they  call 
themselves ;  you  '11  get  to  think  more  of  what  Mrs. 
La-di-da  said  about  your  wife's  newest  evening 
gown  than  you  ever  did  about  creating  a  big,  na- 
tional business." 

David  jumped  to  his  feet  angrily.  "Why 
should  you  think  I  shall  ever  be  such  an  idiot?" 

John  Powell  rose  after  him  and  seizing  his  arm 
swung  him  around  roughly  so  that  he  could  see 
into  his  eyes.  After  a  moment  he  said,  shaking 
his  head  a  little  sadly,  "What  's  the  use  of  my 
ranting  in  this  way?  You  '11  have  to  work  out 
your  own  destiny,  my  boy.  Maybe  you  won't 
settle  down  to — to  oblivion.  Maybe  you  're  not 
through.  But  there  's  a  long  fight  ahead  of  you. 
I  know  Eveljtn  Foster  and  her  kind  too  well. 
She  '11  want  all  of  you — or  none  of  you.  You  '11 
be  happier  perhaps  if  you  let  her  have  her  way." 

It  was  easy  for  David  to  toss  aside  John  Powell's 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  165 

warnings  with  a  slightly  contemptuous  shake  of 
his  head.  What  did  he  know  about  women — good 
women?  On  his  own  confession  he  preferred  the 
other  kind.  And  so  without  any  appreciation  of 
the  finer,  truer  type  of  womanhood,  how  could  he 
be  expected  to  understand  them  f  Besides  he  was 
too  full  of  Evelyn  Foster's  charm  to  think  of  much 
else.  He  was  passionately  devoted  to  her,  he  ad- 
mired too  intensely  all  those  little  evasions,  those 
little  aloofnesses  that  were  a  part  of  her.  He  was 
happy  just  to  sit  opposite  her  and  watch  her 
daintily  pick  an  orange  apart  or  lift  a  cup  to  her 
lips  with  a  grace  that  was  all  her  own. 

He  even  did  his  work  better,  he  told  himself,  his 
perceptions  were  keener,  his  judgment  clearer  be- 
cause of  her.  She  was  an  inspiration  to  him. 
Certainly  he  did  go  through  his  tasks  with  a  vim 
and  energy  that  cleaned  them  up  quickly,  left  part 
of  his  afternoons  free  to  devote  to  her.  At  half- 
past  three  or  four  he  walked  past  John  Powell's 
office  in  which  the  latter  was  bent  over  his  desk  or 
pacing  the  floor  dictating  letters  to  a  stenographer 
with  an  air  of  bravado  that  said,  "Find  a  flaw  in 
my  day's  work  if  you  can!" 

One  spring  afternoon  he  was  hurrying  up  Fifth 
Avenue  to  meet  Evelyn  at  the  Hotel  Manhattan 
where  they  were  to  have  tea  together.  He  had 


166  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

passed  Fortieth  Street  and  was  in  front  of  the  new 
library,  when  the  face  of  a  woman  coming  down 
the  avenue  toward  him  made  him  blink  his  eyes 
incredulously.  Ten  years  slipped  away  from  him 
and  he  was  a  boy  on  the  Bay  Ridge  shore  again. 
...  It  seemed  to  him  that  Nora  saw  him  the  in- 
stant that  he  saw  her.  He  came  to  a  dead  and 
breathless  stop ;  then  sprang  forward  to  meet  her 
outstretched  hand  with  his. 

"Hello!"  he  cried,  "Nora,  is  it  really  you!" — 
and  found  he  could  say  no  more.  They  stepped 
close  to  the  marble  railing,  out  of  the  way  of  the 
stream  of  passersby,  and  a  minute  later  were 
chatting  as  light  heartedly  and  familiarly  as  if 
they  had  parted  amidst  flowers  and  sunshine  only 
yesterday. 

That  was  the  best,  the  finest  part  of  the  meeting, 
thought  David  afterwards,  that  here  after  ten 
years,  with  all  the  chasms  and  gaps  and  wide  dif- 
ferences that  a  decade  brings,  that  here  they  were 
to  meet  again  and  feel  as  if  the  years  had  never 
been. 

He  had  a  hundred  questions  to  ask  her;  a  hun- 
dred questions  parched  his  lips.  Where  was  she 
living?  What  had  become  of  Bradford?  Had  she 
married  him?  Was  she  still  living  with  him! 
They  were  questions  which  had  forced  themselves 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  167 

upon  him  time  and  again  since  the  night  she  had 
said  good-by  to  him  in  another  world  down  in  the 
little  red  house. 

But  he  found  that  he  could  ask  her  none  of  these 
questions.  He  could  simply  gaze  at  her  as  if  his 
eyes  would  never  get  their  fill.  She  had  changed 
a  little — but  not  much.  Some  of  the  bravery,  the 
flame  of  her  bearing,  had  gone ;  her  gray  eyes  had 
saddened  a  little ;  it  seemed  they  had  grown  darker, 
the  long  eyelashes  a  little  heavier ;  the  lines  of  her 
firm  lips  drooped  a  little.  Nevertheless  she  was 
the  same  dear  Nora;  her  eyes  rose  to  his  as 
steadily  as  ever  and  her  hand  was  as  firmly  given, 
her  clasp  as  unfaltering  as  of  old — oh,  she  was  the 
same  Nora!  There  was  no  mistaking  it.  Sud- 
denly a  vast  and  golden  reassurance  flooded  his 
soul  ...  if  she  had  not  changed  then  things  were 
All  Bight  with  her — a  thousand  demons  bowed 
their  heads,  a  thousand  strings  within  him  leaped 
into  harmony. 

And  while  his  thoughts  were  thus  pouring  tor- 
rentially  beneath  the  surface,  they  talked  of  trivial 
things,  their  words  were  empty  and  meaningless 
.  .  .  and  presently  they  realized  this. 

David  glowed  with  an  inspiration.  "Why  not 
go  back  to  the  beach  to-morrow,  Nora?  I  've 
never  been  back.  We  can  talk  there — really  talk. 
We  can  tell  each  other  everything  about  ourselves. 


168  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

We  '11  spend  the  whole  afternoon  there.  Why 
not?" 

Nora's  eyes  were  shadowy  with  reflections.  "I 
don't  think  it  would  do — " 

"Please,  Nora." 

"Well,  perhaps.    It  won't  be  the  same  though." 

"I  know  but  let  's  go  and  see." 

"All  right,"  she  capitulated,  with  a  smile  that 
showed  her  surrender  was  complete. 

They  agreed  to  meet  at  the  Thirty-ninth  Street 
ferry  at  two  o'clock  the  following  day.  David 
proposed  taking  a  taxicab  down  but  Nora  laughed 
mockingly,  "Is  that  the  way  you  're  going  back, 
David  ?  What  had  our  childhood  to  do  with  taxi- 
cabs?  Where  's  the  illusion?  What  has  hap- 
pened to  your  imagination?" 

So  they  parted  reluctantly  but  full  of  the  mor- 
row. 

"Why  are  you  so  quiet,  David?"  asked  Evelyn 
Foster,  at  tea,  later.  "You  look  as  if  your 
thoughts  were  miles  away.  And  you  haven't 
passed  me  the  toast." 

"I  met  a  friend  this  afternoon  I  have  n't  seen  in 
years — not  since  I  left  Bay  Eidge. ' ' 

"A  woman?" 

"Yes." 

Evelyn  asked  nothing  more  and  he  decided  not 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  169 

to  tell  her  of  the  morrow's  excursion.  That,  he 
thought,  belonged  only  to  Nora  and  himself,  was 
dedicated  to  the  dream-days  of  the  past. 


CHAPTEE  IX 

AS  David  hurried  across  South  Street,  he 
caught  sight  of  Nora  coming  from  the  Sub- 
way station.  He  watched  her  as  she  paused  be- 
fore the  little  flower  stand  that  nestled  tucked  in 
the  wall  beside  the  entrance  to  South  Ferry. 
David  ran  toward  her,  beckoning. 

' '  The  boat  's  in,  Nora, ' '  he  caUed.    *  <  Hurry ! ' ' 

She  looked  up,  smiled  a  greeting,  and  came 
hurrying  after  him,  her  hands  full  of  sweet  peas. 
The  guard  laughingly  held  the  gate  open  for  them 
until  they  slid  through. 

The  boat  was  comparatively  deserted,  for  it  was 
hours  before  it  would  receive  its  freight  of  home- 
goers.  They  mounted  to  the  upper  deck  and 
placed  camp  chairs  in  the  shelter  of  the  pilot  house 
so  that  it  would  protect  them  from  the  wind.  The 
bright  sunlight  glittered  on  the  deck  around  them 
and  on  the  waters  so  blindingly  that  they  could 
not  gaze  upon  it. 

"Well?"  asked  Nora,  after  they  were  settled 
and  after  David  had  regarded  her  in  silence  long 
enough.  She  had  on  a  plain  dark  blue  suit  and  she 

170 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  171 

had  pinned  the  sweet  peas  against  her  bosom  so 
that  they  fluttered  in  the  spent  breeze  that  drifted 
around  the  pilot  house ;  she  wore  smart,  mannish 
little  brown  boots  and  a  small  felt  hat  with  a 
feather  stuck  in  it  at  exactly  the  right  angle — a  hat 
which  made  David  think  of  Rosalind  in  the  forest 
of  Arden. 

"Well,  what?"  asked  David. 
"What  are  we  going  to  talk  about?" 
"A  million  things.    First  of  all,  where  have  you 
been?" 

1 '  Only  for  the  past  year  in  New  York. ' ' 
"That  's  why  I  Ve  never  seen  you.    I  looked 
everywhere   for  years.    Finally,   I  gave  up.    I 
thought  you  were  lost  to  me  forever.    Are  you 
here  permanently  now  ? ' ' 

"I  'm  living  in  Brooklyn — in  the  remotest  part 
of  Brooklyn." 
"Not  Bay  Ridge?" 

"No,  quite  the  other  end  of  Brooklyn." 
The  boat  was  now  rounding  Governor 's  Island ; 
the  old  fort  stood  out  in  faded  brick  over  which 
the  sunlight  threw  kind  mellow  shadows ;  dredges 
were  at  work  filling  in  new  ground,  adding  a  long 
tongue  of  land  like  the  tail  of  a  kite  to  the  island. 
' '  Everything  is  changing  and  being  changed, ' '  said 
Nora.  "I  wonder  if  we  will  find  Bay  Ridge 
changed?" 


172  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"I  don't  know;  I  hope  not,"  said  David  thought- 
fully and  a  little  sadly. 

They  watched  the  Brooklyn  shore  slip  by,  low  at 
the  water's  edge,  with  many  covered  wharves  and 
square  warehouses,  rising  beyond  in  dwellings, 
interspersed  with  the  steeples  of  churches;  pres- 
ently, the  high  fence  that  shuts  in  Erie  Basin  was 
before  them  and  beyond,  at  a  height,  the  melan- 
choly trees  and  grass  of  Greenwood. 

Nora  and  David  spoke  but  little ;  they  were  con- 
tent to  be  with  each  other  again.  Their  hearts 
beat  high  with  the  spirits  of  memory  and  of  ad- 
venture. 

The  boat  ran  into  the  slip  with  a  gentle  thud, 
and  at  the  landing  they  boarded  an  open  trolley 
car.  Here  it  was  no  longer  the  place  of  open  lots 
and  ramshackle  buildings  that  they  remembered. 
A  terminal  company  had  taken  possession  of  the 
surrounding  territory  and  erected  towering  fac- 
tories of  gray  concrete  and  warehouses  and  built 
wharves  that  pushed  their  hooded  heads  far  out 
into  the  bay. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  past  Sixty-fifth  Street, 
once  called  City  Line,  however,  that  they  reached 
the  regions  they  had  really  known.  Here  it  be- 
came appallingly  evident  what  tremendous  changes 
the  City's  growth  had  brought  about  in  the  past 
ten  years.  At  Sixty-ninth  Street  there  was  still 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  173 

the  cluster  of  low  wooden  stores  to  which  David, 
as  a  boy,  had  been  sent  on  errands  almost  daily, 
but  all  around  them  had  risen  block  after  block  of 
red  brick  flat-houses  with  the  ground  floors  given 
to  shiny  new  shops.  The  trees  that  had  formerly 
arched  their  branches  over  the  street  were  all 
gone  to  make  way  for  the  flagstone  pavements  and 
the  relentless  telegraph  and  telephone  wires. 

Nora  and  David  alighted  from  the  car  at  Sev- 
enty-third Street  and  walked  toward  the  Shore 
Eoad.  The  flat-houses  and  shops  did  not  extend 
below  Third  Avenue,  but  along  these  side  streets 
little  villas  lay  in  orderly  rows,  with  spiked  rail- 
ings guarding  them  and  spare  grass  plots  in 
front — villas  all  hopelessly  alike,  swinging  into 
view  one  after  another  with  patterned  monot- 
ony. 

They  walked  on  down  streets  cut  recently 
through  the  meadows  they  remembered  with 
daisies  and  clover  in  bloom.  Finally  the  orderly 
and  settled  rows  of  villas  were  left  behind  and 
they  came  upon  a  riot  of  fresh  upheavals  just 
breaking  ground  like  monstrous  plants  putting 
forth  leaves  and  sprouts  of  wood  and  plaster. 
Already  in  their  incipient  state,  they  were  labeled, 
"These  Little  Mansions  for  Sale  at  Seasonable 
Prices." 

Here  it  was  immeasurably  drearier  than  before 


174  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

for  the  low  meadows  still  bled  with  their  wounds 
— dark  red  piles  of  earth  lay  on  the  green  grass 
and  scaffolding  and  lath  and  plaster  spread  itself 
everywhere.  Trees  and  bushes  were  broken  or 
stuck  their  heads  forlornly  through  the  debris  as 
if  watching  patiently-  the  approach  of  their  in- 
evitable doom.  And  in  and  out  of  the  litter  moved 
the  busy  builders,  whistling  at  their  work;  the 
sound  of  their  hammering  and  sawing  and  shout- 
ing split  the  air. 

At  last  David  and  Nora  reached  First  Avenue 
— the  Shore  Eoad  was  only  a  block  distant.  As 
yet  the  City  had  spared  this  part — only  an  oc- 
casional new  house  rose  knee  deep  and  alien  in  the 
meadows  with  a  thin  path  trodden  brown  leading 
to  its  door. 

Out  of  the  depths  of  her  disappointment  Nora 
whispered  hopefully,  *  *  I  think  the  Shore  Eoad  will 
still  be  the  same,  David;  that  's  all  that  really 
counts. ' ' 

But  when  they  reached  the  Shore  Road  the 
changes  were  cruelest  of  all. 

For  those  mysterious  beings  who  masquerade 
under  the  name  of  Authority  had  cut  down  all  the 
trees  and  bushes  and  wild  growth  which  had  for- 
merly flourished  in  abandon  along  the  cliffside. 
Everything  was  now  severely  in  order  as  if  a  hot 
iron  had  Men  passed  over  it.  The  banks  of  the 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  175 

cliff  were  smoothed  down  and  robbed  of  the  de- 
lightful crevices  on  which  flowers  had  once 
bloomed  and  from  which  vines  and  bushes  had 
flung  flowering  arms  to  greet  the  sea.  All  was 
gone !  Instead,  the  cliff  sloped  gently  to  the  sand 
and  it  was  evenly  sodded  with  close-clipped  grass, 
broken  with  brown  and  yellow  patches  .  .  . 

The  sun  beat  down  starkly  on  law  and  order; 
the  breeze  was  gone. 

David  did  not  look  at  Nora.  He  was  heartsick. 
He  was  bitterly  disillusioned.  He  had  come  back 
here  with  Nora  to  visit  the  scenes  of  their  child- 
hood— and  he  had  found  them  so  utterly  and  sadly 
changed.  And  it  made  him  think  of  how  his  life 
was  changed,  too,  of  how  all  the  dear  fancies  and 
hopes  of  his  youth  had  been  pressed  out  of  him, 
leaving  him  a  solid  and  unimaginative  business 
man.  What  right  had  he  to  memories  f  .  .  .  Their 
excursion  so  eagerly  planned  was  settling  down 
into  a  dismal  failure. 

They  walked  down  the  slope  of  grass  to  the 
beach.  Nora  refused  David's  hand  and  he  thought 
of  the  day  she  had  refused  to  let  him  help  her  over 
the  rocks. 

"Bet  I  can  beat  you  swimming,"  he  said,  sum- 
moning up  spirit  enough  to  smile  into  her  face, 
and  when  she  flashed  back  at  him,  "Bet  you 
can't!"  it  brought  a  little  gaiety  back  to  them. 


176  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"Let 's  go  down  to  the  rocks  and  sit  there  and 
talk,"  suggested  David. 

"Yes,  let 's,"  she  agreed. 

But  they  looked  for  the  string  of  rocks  in  vain. 
They  had  been  removed  to  make  way  for  a  break- 
water of  concrete,  filled  with  rock,  which  kept  the 
sea  out  of  the  tiny  cove  and  turned  it  into  a  placid 
pool  of  slumbering  water. 

Suddenly  Nora  halted  and  exclaimed:  "Why 
even  the  little  red  house,  your  little  red  house,  is 
gone!" 

David  nodded ;  he  had  already  noticed  it.  ' '  Yes, 
I  'm  glad  it  is.  It  has  no  place  here." 

"Yes,  I  'm  glad  it 's  gone,"  Nora  agreed,  after 
a  minute. 

They  made  their  way  out  upon  a  new  dock  bear- 
ing a  freshly  painted  sign,  "City  Property — No 
Trespassing,"  and  settled  themselves  on  the  far 
edge  where  a  ledge  offered  a  seat.  In  the  dis- 
tance, as  of  old,  the  City,  swathed  in  veils,  loomed 
against  the  horizon. 

"Do  you  remember  how  you  used  to  sit  here  and 
dream  of  what  the  City  would  mean  to  you? 
.What  it  would  do  to  you?"  asked  Nora. 

Very  soberly  David  nodded. 

"What  has  it  done,  David?" 

And  he  told  her.  Everything  he  told  her.  Of 
the  dreary  years  spent  in  Brooklyn  boarding 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  177 

houses,  of  Nell  Ferguson,  of  B.  Foster  &  Company 
and  John  Powell  and,  finally,  of  the  success  that 
had  come  to  him. 

"The  keys  of  the  City,"  Nora  said,  after  he  had 
concluded;  "to  think,  after  all,  David,  that  they 
should  be  presented  to  you." 

"Presented  to  me?" 

"Well,  the  keys  to  the  City  are  success  and  the 
money  it  brings.  They  open  all  doors." 

David  remembered,  then,  how  he  had  told  her  of 
the  famous  man  who  had  come  to  a  great  city 
and  been  presented  with  its  keys,  and  how  he  had 
wondered  and  hoped  that  he  might  be  so  famous 
some  day  that  the  keys  of  their  city  would  be  given 
to  him. 

They  sat  in  silence  for  a  time.  Nora  had  her 
back  to  a  post,  her  head  tilted  so  that  it  rested 
against  it ;  her  white  veil  was  lif ted  and  her  eyes 
closed.  The  sweet  peas  at  her  bosom,  a  little 
wilted,  were  very  fragrant.  David  studying  her 
face,  abruptly  realized  she  was  older.  She  looked 
tired  now.  How  old  was  she?  A  year  younger 
than  he.  She  was  over  thirty !  He  could  hardly 
credit  it  ...  oh,  the  years,  the  swift  silent 
years !  .  .  .  One  of  her  heavy  tan  gloves  slipped 
from  her  lap  and  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  retain- 
ing it  in  his  hand,  turning  it  over  and  over  with  a 
curious  expression  in  his  eyes.  And  now  he 


178  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

thought  how  strange  it  was  that  he  knew  nothing 
of  Nora,  of  her  life  for  the  past  ten  years  al- 
though sitting  beside  her  she  seemed  so  near  and 
so  utterly  familiar  to  him.  As  if  in  answer  to  his 
thoughts,  when  he  looked  up,  he  found  Nora 's  eyes 
upon  him.  He  flushed  slightly  and  dropped  the 
glove  upon  her  lap.  For  a  moment  longer  they 
stayed  silent  while  the  waters  gurgled  and  sucked 
at  the  piers  of  the  dock  below  them;  then  Nora 
said: 

"I  suppose  you  want  my  story  now?" 

"Not  unless  you  want  to  tell — ' 

"I  want  to  tell  you,  David." 

"I  want  to  hear  very  much — oh,  very  much,"  he 
confessed. 

She  paused  as  if  loath  to  begin  while  he  waited 
intent. 

"I  Ve  left  Walter  Bradford." 

"You  never  married  him?" 

"No." 

"You  're  living  alone!" 

"Yes.    I  'm  making  my  own  living." 

"How?" 

For  a  full  minute  she  did  not  answer;  then, 
finally:  "I  suppose  it 's  simpler  to  begin  at  the 
beginning.  When  I  ran  away  with  Walter  I  de- 
termined to  stick  to  him  forever.  Even  after  I 
found  that  I  no  longer  cared  for  him  it  seemed  the 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  179 

only  thing  for  me  to  do — the  only  way  to  keep 
afloat.  When  a  woman  takes  a  step  of  that  kind, 
you  know,  things  pull  at  her,  pull  downward  all 
the  time — other  men  find  out  and  take  weaknesses 
for  granted." 

David  asked  savagely :  *  *  Bradford  treated  you 
well?" 

She  nodded.  "He  grew  quite  to  respect  me — 
oh,  that  was  hard,  David — to  make  him  respect 
me.  He  had  affairs  with  other  women;  he  could 
not  get  along  without  excitement  of  that  kind;  it 
was  what  he  lived  for.  And  I  got  so  that  I — I  did 
not  mind  them.  They  came  and  went,  all  more  or 
less  mercenary  and  vile.  But  he  got  so  that  he 
no  longer  classed  me  with  those  other  women; 
he  got  to  look  upon  me  almost  as  a  wife ;  at  least, 
as  a  fixture,  a  habit.  Do  you  understand  what  I 
mean  ?  He  used  to  come  to  me  with  his  petty  little 
sorrows  and  failures.  I  was  his  harbor,  his  home. 
He  grew  quite  fond  of  me  in  that  way — " 

"And  you?" 

"I  thought  there  was  nothing  else  for  me  to  do 
• — that  it  was  my  only  salvation.  I  came  to  be- 
lieve that  a  woman  should  bow  her  head  to  con- 
vention, she  must  regard  what  people  say,  what 
they  think.  When  I  started  out  I  did  n  't  think 
so.  I  began  life  by  thinking  I  could  do  as  I 
pleased.  I  wanted  to  have  the  same  liberty  a  man 


180  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

has.  But  I  just  went — smash.  You  know  I  Ve 
always  hated  muck — I  didn't  want  that  sort  of 
liberty.  But  I  wanted  freedom,  freedom  to  act 
and  talk  and  think  as  I  pleased.  Of  course  cir- 
cumstances played  their  part  in  smashing  me.  .  .  . 
With  a  man  it  's  different.  The  world  makes  it 
awfully  hard  for  a  woman  to  be  brave  and  inde- 
pendent and  fearless.  Once  let  her  step  outside 
the  palings  aad  the  wolves  are  at  her,  leaping  for 
her  throat.  ...  It  takes  courage  .  .  .  David,  if  it 
had  n't  been  for  you,  if  I  had  n't  remembered  you 
all  those  years,  I  should  have  thought  all  men 
beasts.  I  should  have  given  up.  For  when  I 
realized  the  trap  I  had  so  willingly  stepped  into, 
I  became  reckless.  But  at  last  I  decided  to  make 
the  best  of  it.  I  decided  the  only  thing  for  me  to 
do  was  to  stick  to  Walter  until  death  came  to  him 
or  to  me.  For  six  years  I  endured  it  ...  and 
then  I  changed. '  * 

There  was  another  silence  while  David  waited. 
Nora  relaxed  from  the  rigidness  which  held  her; 
she  leaned  her  head  against  the  post  again  and 
closed  her  eyes.  It  was  in  this  attitude,  that  she 
presently  resumed : 

"Then  another  man  came  into  my  life — Carl 
Ellis — a  Westerner  from  Colorado ;  a  clean,  strong 
man,  crude,  simple,  wonderfully  tender.  Walter 
knew  him  in  a  business  way.  We  were  living  in 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  181 

Chicago  then  and  Walter  brought  him  home  to 
dinner  at  our  little  apartment  near  the  Lake  front. 
He  came  several  times.  He  thought  that  I  was 
Walter's  wife.  Suddenly  he  discovered — I  don't 
know  how — that  I  wasn't.  It  broke  him  all  up. 
I  hadn't  known  he  cared  for  me  until  then — he 
was  one  of  the  few  men  who  wouldn't  let  a  mar- 
ried woman  know,  not  even  by  a  look.  He  went 
back  to  Colorado.  Before  he  went  I  told  him  my 
whole  story — as  you  know  it,  David.  He  heard  of 
you,  too,  of  what  you  had  meant  to  me.  He  wept 
for  me — that  huge  man  weeping  ...  it  was  awful, 
actually  awful.  So  he  went  home.  I  have  never 
heard  from  him  nor  seen  him  since  although  I 
wrote  him  when  I  came  East. ' ' 

"You  loved  him!"  asked  David  huskily. 

"No,  but  I  wanted  him  to  know  I  had  broken 
away  from  Walter — and  all  that." 

1 1  How  did  it  come  about  ? ' ' 

"Well,  after  Carl  had  gone  I  got  to  thinking 
things  over  slowly;  you  know  how  a  thing  keeps 
revolving  in  your  mind,  creeping  upon  you  gradu- 
ally until  you  can't  think  of  anything  else.  I  be- 
gan to  ask  myself  if  after  all,  it  was  the  right  thing 
to  stick  to  Walter — if  it  were  the  only  thing  to  do. 
And  at  last  it  seemed  to  me  it  wasn't — that  I 
should  get  away — make  my  own  living.  How? 
That  was  the  next  question.  So  I  studied  stenog- 


182  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

raphy  and  typewriting,  went  to  school  while  Wal- 
ter was  at  business.  At  last  I  felt  I  knew  enough 
to  take  a  chance.  So  I  cut  loose — I  left  Walter. ' ' 

" How  did  he  act!" 

"There  was  a  scene.  His  wife  had  died  a  year 
or  so  before.  He  offered  to  marry  me.  But  the 
offer  came  too  late.  My  heart  was  mad  with  the 
thought  of  freedom.  .  .  .  Well,  I  finally  got  a  posi- 
tion at  starvation  wages  but  I  managed  to  keep  on 
and  I  got  a  better  position.  At  last,  after  a  year, 
I  had  saved  enough  to  come  East.  You  see  I 
wanted  to  get  as  far  away  as  possible  from  Walter. 
I  was  in  constant  fear  of  meeting  him.  When  I 
arrived  here  a  year  ago,  I  obtained  a  position  in 
Brooklyn  in  a  factory  as  stenographer.  Now  I  'm 
the  private  secretary  to  the  head  of  the  firm  and 
making  a  very  decent  salary — very  decent  for  a 
woman. ' ' 

' l  Have  you  heard  anything  of  your  mother  f ' ' 

' '  She  is  dead.    I  never  saw  her  again. ' ' 

" Your  father?" 

' '  Of  him  I  know  nothing. ' ' 

She  sat  very  quietly,  still  intent  upon  her  story ; 
her  hands  were  folded  in  her  lap ;  her  lips  tremu- 
lous. Evening  was  approaching  with  a  noisy  twit- 
ter of  birds ;  the  shore  and  the  bay  were  regaining 
some  of  their  old  charm  with  the  softening  light. 
The  hard  orderly  lines  of  the  sodded  cliff  and  the 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  183 

ugly  upheaval  of  the  breakwater  melted  beneath 
the  golden  light  of  sunset.  From  afar  came  the 
sound  of  whistles  announcing  the  end  of  the 
workers '  day. 

Nora  arose.  "It  must  be  getting  late,"  she 
said,  staring  out  over  the  undulating  water  with 
unseeing  eyes. 

They  walked  back  along  the  beach  and  up  the 
cliff.  Before  the  white  house  where  Nora  had 
lived,  they  paused.  It  had  fallen  into  disrepair 
and  needed  painting;  it  had  grown  strangely 
smaller  with  the  years. 

"Things  appear  so  ridiculously  impressive  when 
one  is  a  child,"  said  David. 

They  waded  through  the  meadows  where  the 
sporadic  growth  of  new  villas  stood  deserted  in 
the  hush  of  evening.  The  hammering  and  shout- 
ing and  bustling  had  ceased  for  a  little  while. 
Night  was  drawing  the  torn  meadows  to  her  cool 
bosom.  They  crossed  First  Avenue  and  came 
upon  the  orderly  rows  of  small  houses  set  behind 
their  handkerchiefs  of  grass.  The  houses  now 
showed  lights,  and  red-globed  lamps  with  beaded 
fringes  shone  bravely  in  small  parlors  of  impec- 
cably varnished  woodwork.  Past  it  all  stole  David 
and  Nora  like  two  shades  who  had  no  place  in  the 
happy,  well  ordered  commonplace  life  these  little 
houses  represented. 


184  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

They  did  not  speak  except  in  short  detached 
sentences  until  they  were  on  the  ferryboat  again. 
Then  David  told  Nora  of  Evelyn.  He  had  in- 
tended telling  her  to-day,  but  finally  when  the  City 
was  sp  near,  its  huge  buildings  towering  over  them, 
he  found  he  had  to  force  himself  to  it. 

"I  am  going  to  be  married,  Nora,"  he  said  ab- 
ruptly. 

"Yes,"  said  Nora  in  a  very  low  voice,  and  sud- 
denly she  lifted  her  hand  to  her  hat  and  let  her 
veil  fall  over  her  face. 

"Yes,"  he  repeated. 

After  a  moment  she  said,  "I  'm  glad,  David. 
I  'm  awfully  glad.  At  first  I  was  n't  but  I  think 
it  's  probably  the  best  thing.  ...  I  think  you  '11 
be  happy.  You  ought  to  be.  I  should  think  any 
woman  would  be  happy  with  you.  What  's  her 
name?" 

"Evelyn  Foster." 

"Foster?" 

"My  employer's  daughter." 

"I  should  like  to  see  her." 

"Yes,  you  must  meet  her  sometime,"  he  said 
quickly  and  a  slightly  embarrassed  pause  fol- 
lowed. 

When  they  reached  New  York,  David  proposed 
dining  together  uptown.  But  Nora  shook  her 
head. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  185 

"I  know  the  quietest  little  place  near  Wash- 
ington Square, ' '  he  urged. 

She  would  not  be  persuaded.  "Good-by, 
David," — she  held  out  her  hand.  "I  '11  take  the 
subway.  I  '11  leave  you  here,  please." 

"But,  Nora!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  haven't 
told  me  where  you  are  living  nor  when  I  can  see 
you  again!" 

"Do  you  think  that  it  's  wise,  David?" 

"Wise !  Oh,  what  rot,  Nora.  It  is  n't  as  if  we 
still  cared  for  one  another  or,  rather,  as  if  I  cared ; 
you  never  cared. ' ' 

"No,  I  never  cared,"  she  echoed,  in  a  lifeless 
voice. 

"Then  why  shouldn't  we  see  each  other  oc- 
casionally?" 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  minute.  "I  think  it  is 
better  that  we  don't,  David.  Please  don't  misun- 
derstand me,"  she  put  her  hand  on  his  arm. 
"You  're  a  brother  to  me,  a  friend,  but  I  think  I  'm 
wiser  in  this.  We  must  take  no  chances.  I  must 
not  come  into  your  life  again,  and  especially  not 
at  present." 

"I  don't  understand — " 

She  smiled,  but  in  her  eyes  there  was  an  ex- 
pression he  could  not  fathom. 

"Grant  me  one  favor,  Nora,"  he  said  finally, 
when  he  saw  he  could  not  alter  her  decision.  He 


186  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

took  a  card  from  his  pocket,  penciled  an  address  on 
it.  * '  If  you  should  ever  need  anything — anything 
I  have — if  you  should  want  money,  sympathy, 
help,  anything  a  man  can  offer,  anything  a  friend 
and  a  brother  can  offer,  will  you  promise  to  call 
upon  me?  It  will  make  this  parting  a  lot  easier 
for  me.  It  will  make  me  almost  happy  to  know 
that  if  anything  goes  wrong  with  you,  I  '11  learn  of 
it  and  can  help  to  set  it  right  again. ' ' 

She  took  the  card  and  slipped  it  into  her  pocket- 
book.  "I  promise,"  she  said  solemnly. 

She  gave  him  her  hand  and  let  him  hold  it  for 
a  minute  while  he  gazed  at  her  under  the  yellow 
glow  of  the  Subway  entrance  lights,  with  a 
troubled,  perplexed  questioning  in  his  eyes. 

Then  she  left  him. 


CHAPTER  X 

THAT  night  very  late,  after  he  was  quite  sure 
John  Powell  was  asleep  in  his  room  down 
the  hall,  David  stole  forth  from  his  bed.  There 
was  something  that  would  not  let  him  sleep.  He 
went  over  to  his  bureau  and  drew  forth  from  the 
lowest  drawer,  where  it  had  long  lain  hidden,  a 
small  white  cardboard  box.  He  thought  he  owed 
it  to  Evelyn  to  destroy  the  articles  it  contained. 
He  picked  them  out  one  by  one — they  were  piti- 
fully meager — a  dented  silver  thimble  that  Nora 
had  lost  on  the  beach,  the  letters  she  had  written 
him  after  the  first  summer,  and  the  small  photo- 
graph in  the  brown  leather  case  that  showed  her 
as  a  child  standing  on  the  sand — that  was  all. 
David  examined  them  carefully,  read  the  letters 
and  gazed  long  upon  the  photograph  .  .  .  their 
destruction  became  impossible. 

"What  a  sentimental  ass  I  am,"  he  remarked  to 
himself,  "but  I  'm  sure  Evelyn  wouldn't  mind." 

So  he  replaced  them  in  their  box  within  the 
bureau  drawer  and  crept  back  to  bed.  But  still 
sleep  did  not  come  .  .  . 

187 


188  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

He  did  not  see  Evelyn  for  a  week,  while  over 
the  telephone  her  voice  asked  plaintively  what 
kept  him  away.  She  even  sent  him  a  short  note 
asking  him  if  he  were  ill,  if  she  had  done  anything 
to  offend  him — and  he  did  not  answer  it. 

He  went  back  to  her,  finally,  very  contrite  and 
repentant,  telling  himself  that  his  marriage  to  her 
would  solve  his  problem,  silence  his  memories. 
And  so  tender  and  thoughtful  was  he  in  this  atti- 
tude that  he  managed  to  win  her  consent  to  an 
early  marriage. 

"Are  you  quite  sure,  David,  that  you  love  me?" 
she  asked,  her  arms  around  his  neck.  "  After  all, 
I  don 't  suppose  I  can  give  you  very  much.  I  don 't 
know — sometimes  I  think  I  'm  not  meant  for  mar- 
riage. Some  things  about  it  seem  to  me  so — so 
horrid.  Sometimes  I  even  wonder — oh,  David, 
forgive  me! — if  I  love  you  enough.  I  'm  selfish, 
utterly  selfish.  I  Ve  been  spoilt — I  realize  that. 
All  my  life  everything  has  been  given  me;  I  Ve 
been  smothered  with  gifts  and  pleasures  until  I 
think  the  real  me  has  died.  But  if  you  left  me, 
if  some  other  woman  took  you  from  me,  I  should 
be  mad  with  jealousy  ...  I  care  enough  for 
that" 

Never  had  David  found  her  so  charming  as  in 
that  rare  moment  of  frankness.  He  thought  of 
what  John  Powell  had  said  of  Evelyn  and  told 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  189 

himself  that  a  woman  who  confessed  her  weak- 
nesses was  a  woman  indeed. 

"Evelyn,  I  look  upon  my  marriage  to  you  as  a 
safe  haven,  deep  with  happiness,"  he  said — and  he 
believed  what  he  said.  "If  you  refuse  to  marry 
me  now,  God  help  me. ' ' 

And  so  one  day  at  high  noon  they  were  mar- 
ried in  Christ  Church  on  Brooklyn  Heights  with 
music  filling  the  air  and  flowers  banked  high 
around  them,  and  Evelyn's  friends,  brilliantly 
attired,  crowding  the  church,  and  the  reception  at 
the  big  Foster  home  afterwards. 

David  went  through  it  all  in  a  dazed  condition. 
People's  faces  were  a  blur  before  his  eyes  and  he 
dropped  the  ring  as  he  was  about  to  place  it  on 
Evelyn's  finger  and  remembered  groping  around 
on  the  carpeted  floor  searching  for  it  in  the  dim 
light. 

Afterwards  only  two  impressions  remained  dis- 
tinct with  him. 

One  was  Evelyn  descending  the  stairs  as  they 
were  about  to  go  away.  She  wore  a  traveling  suit 
of  light  gray  which  made  her  seem  more  radiant 
even  than  her  white  wedding  gown ;  her  eyes  were 
shining,  her  cheeks  flushed  but,  nevertheless,  she 
was  wonderfully  calm,  quite  mistress  of  herself. 

The  other  impression  was  John  Powell,  who  had 
at  last  been  prevailed  upon  to  come,  wringing 


190  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

David's  hand  as  he  was  about  to  step  into  the 
motor,  and  saying,  "Forget  what  I  said,  my  boy. 
God  give  you  happiness!  I  shall  miss  you, 
David." 

Then  the  closed  automobile  moved  swiftly  and 
silently  away  and  he  was  conscious  of  Evelyn's 
eyes,  a  little  frightened,  upon  him.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  they  were  absolutely  isolated  from  the 
rest  of  the  world,  they,  two,  as  if  they  had  each 
been  cast  separately  upon  a  desert  island  and  had 
suddenly  come  face  to  face.  She  had  been  given 
to  him  to  protect  and  cherish  through  all  the  rest 
of  her  life  and  his  life  .  .  .  very  tenderly  he  put 
his  arms  around  her  shoulders  and  drew  her  to 
him  and  with  the  kiss  he  gave  her  then  he  felt  that 
one  book  in  his  life  was  closed  and  a  new  one 
opened  with  blank  pages  on  which  he  could  write 
what  he  willed. 


PAET  III 


CHAPTER  I 

DURING  the  honeymoon,  David  discovered 
the  tenacity  of  purpose  which  ran,  like  a 
steel  wire  stiffening  silk,  through  the  frail  body  of 
his  wife.  She  was  so  accustomed  to  her  own  way 
that  she  could  not  brook  contradictions  of  any 
kind,  could  hardly  understand  them.  They  in- 
furiated her,  galvanized  her  into  white  and  speech- 
less anger.  This  spirit  manifested  itself  at  first 
in  many  small  ways.  Evelyn  was  a  Puritan.  She 
had  a  number  of  prejudices  which  were  not 
founded  on  reason  but  which  had  been  handed  to 
her  intact,  by  her  parents,  much  as  they  had 
handed  her  bread  and  butter  when  she  was  a  child. 
Certain  things  were  wrong  because  she  had  been 
told  they  were  wrong. 

With  these  fixed  beliefs  to  back  up  her  argu- 
ments she  laid  a  hand  on  some  of  David's  personal 
habits  and  with  pouting  lips  and  contracted  eye- 
brows said,  "I  wish  you  would  n't  smoke  so  much, 
David.  It  's  bad  for  you — especially  cigarettes. 
Won't  you  please  be  moderate  for  my  sake?  I  '11 
limit  you  to  a  box  a  day." 

193 


194  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

She  viewed  askance  his  friendly  overtures  to 
people  they  encountered  in  their  travels,  in  the 
trains  and  the  hotels,  and  once  when  he  had  ac- 
cepted a  stranger 's  invitation  to  have  a  drink  with 
him  she  had  been  so  outraged  that  she  refused  to 
speak  to  him  for  half  a  day. 

Evelyn  demanded,  too,  a  great  deal  of  attention, 
he  found,  in  small  and  foolish  ways.  It  angered 
her  curiously  to  have  him  slight  or  forget  these 
demands.  One  evening,  when  he  had  failed  to 
open  a  door  as  she  was  about  to  pass  out  of  a 
room,  she  turned  upon  him  with  a  cold  and  un- 
smiling :  "I  see  I  shall  have  to  teach  you  some  of 
the  manners  of  a  gentleman." 

The  memory  of  that  remark  stung  for  several 
days  although  he  did  his  best  to  forget  it  ... 

Apart  from  these  trifling  discords,  however,  the 
friction  of  one  nature  adjusting  itself  to  another, 
their  honeymoon  was  a  long  and  intoxicating  duet. 
Evelyn  showed,  in  her  melting  moods,  that  she 
could  be  wonderfully  soft  and  tender.  In  love  she 
was  a  sweet  creature. 

But  toward  the  end  of  the  journey  David 
secretly  found  himself  thinking  gratefully  of  its 
termination.  Honeymooning  was  too  rhapsodic. 
It  contained  too  little  of  the  sterner  stuff  of  life. 
It  was  a  strange  custom,  he  thought,  this  honey- 
mooning, which  brought  two  people  so  irrevocably 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  195 

face  to  face,  day  after  day,  exposing  them  to  each 
other  so  constantly  in  such  a  fiercely  intimate  light. 
It  did,  indeed,  demand  its  madness,  its  glamour. 
It  overdrew  so  heavily,  at  the  very  outset,  the 
fund  of  common  sympathies,  interests,  and  ideas. 
It  was,  he  concluded,  a  relic  of  that  time  when  a 
bride  did  not  ask  so  much  leniency  in  a  husband 
nor  a  groom  so  much  intelligence  in  a  wife.  It 
was  somewhat  obsolete.  It  belonged  to  that 
simpler  period  when  the  wife  was  the  vine  and  the 
husband  the  oak. 

David  discovered  many  things  about  Evelyn  to- 
ward the  close  of  their  travels  and  each  new  dis- 
covery was  utterly  surprising.  He  felt  somewhat 
as  if  he  had  started  out  with  some  one  he  knew 
quite  well  and  was  returning  with  one  whom  he 
had  met  on  the  way  and  was  only  beginning  to 
know.  Curtains  had  been  torn  away  but  new  and 
more  subtle  ones  had  replaced  them. 

He  found,  for  instance,  that  Evelyn  did  not  have 
any  real  liking  for  books  or  plays.  He  imagined 
that  she  would  not  feel  their  loss  greatly  if  through 
some  unimaginable  catastrophe  they  were  all  done 
away  with.  She  read  books  because  she  heard 
people  talk  about  them  and  she  went  to  plays  be- 
cause the  theaters  drew  their  audiences.  Nor  did 
she  have  any  but  a  feeble  interest  in  the  things  that 
were  happening  in  the  world.  For  a  time,  he 


196  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

found  great  amusement  in  her  method  of  reading  a 
newspaper  and  he  chaffed  her  about  it  until  it  sent 
her  into  a  sullen  mood.  She  would  pass  hastily 
over  those  columns  which  told  of  the  big  events  of 
the  day  and  come  to  anchor  before  a  divorce  suit 
or  some  other  recital  of  scandal  .  .  .  she  found, 
as  if  by  instinct,  the  queerest  little  items  no  mat- 
ter in  what  corner  of  the  paper  they  were  tucked 
so  long  as  they  dealt  in  personalities,  tepid  and 
spiced.  But  her  training  was  such  that  in  discuss- 
ing it,  she  would  end  up  by  saying  with  a  shake  of 
her  little  head,  "How  can  people  do  these  awful 
things?" 

She  was  happiest,  he  noted,  at  dinner  in  the  big 
dining-room  of  the  hotel  in  Quebec  where  they 
stayed  for  a  fortnight.  There  she  commented  with 
avidity  on  the  dresses  and  manners  of  the  people 
who  sat  at  other  tables.  She  sparkled  with  ani- 
mation, seemed  confident  of  her  own  charming  ap- 
pearance; her  conversation,  slightly  malicious, 
very  naive,  ran  on  amusingly.  As  if  her  position 
as  a  married  woman  gave  her  new  freedoms,  she 
would  lean  towards  David  and  whisper,  "Do  you 
think  that  woman  over  there  with  black  hair  is  a 
bad  woman?  Look  how  she  's  fondling  that  man's 
hand.  A  lady  wouldn't  do  that,  would  she!" 

In  the  past,  before  their  marriage,  she  had  ig- 
nored that  type  of  woman  when  they  had  encoun- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  197 

tered  her  in  restaurants,  had  sat  with  averted  eyes 
and  pursed  lips.  But  now  it  was  as  if  marriage 
had  given  her  the  right  to  peer,  to  ask  questions, 
to  unveil  a  hard  and  relentless  curiosity.  David 
could  not  help  thinking  of  a  pretty  child  suddenly 
released  from  a  dark  closet,  standing  on  its  thresh- 
old, blinking,  disapproving,  afraid  to  come  out  and 
yet  too  interested  to  go  back. 

Evelyn  did  have  the  gift  of  dressing  well.  It 
was  her  means  of  expressing  herself.  Neither 
ribbon  nor  buckle  ever  struck  a  discordant  note. 
The  color  scheme  of  her  attire  was  worked  out 
as  carefully  and  painstakingly  as  a  designer's. 
When  she  spoke  of  other  women's  clothes  it  was 
with  the  authoritative  air  of  an  artist  discussing 
amateurs.  Much  of  the  triumph  of  the  artist,  too, 
was  hers  as  she  passed  through  a  crowded  room 
with  the  eyes  of  every  woman,  appraising,  won- 
dering, curious,  following  her. 

Such  was  the  Evelyn  that  David  had  mar- 
ried. .  .  . 

It  was  in  June  that  they  returned  to  New  York. 
As  they  were  to  spend  at  least  two  months  that 
summer  with  Evelyn's  parents  in  their  country 
home  at  Woodmere,  they  decided  to  postpone  all 
plans  for  their  own  homemaking  until  autumn. 


CHAPTER  II 

WOODMEEE  lies  flat  on  the  south  shore  of 
Long  Island  within  easy  commuting  dis- 
tance of  New  York.  Where,  not  so  long  ago,  the 
wild  duck  flew  croaking  over  marsh  grasses  and 
through  clumps  of  stunted  cedars,  the  villas  of  the 
well-to-do  now  raised  their  sloping  roofs  and  red 
brick  chimneys,  crowding  closer  together  each 
year. 

Down  at  Woodmere,  that  summer,  people  spoke 
of  the  fortunate  marriage  Evelyn  Foster  had 
made.  David  "Wells  was  such  a  nice  young  man, 
so  devoted  to  his  wife.  The  two  of  them  were  al- 
ways together;  if  David  played  his  indifferent 
tennis  or  golf  at  the  country  club,  his  wife  always 
sat  on  the  wide  veranda  of  the  club  house  watch- 
ing him.  It  was  as  such  things  should  be,  of 
course,  said  everybody,  but  unfortunately  they 
were  so  seldom  as  they  should  be.  It  was  so  re- 
freshing to  see  an  ideal  example  of  a  newly  mar- 
ried couple.  In  the  quieter  young  married  set 
down  there  David  and  Evelyn  quickly  found  their 
place.  They  were  welcomed  as  a  thoroughly  de- 

198 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  199 

pendable  addition  to  the  ranks  of  the  respectable 
and  law-abiding. 

This  country  life  which  centered  around  the  club 
house  where  the  dances  were  held  and  where  the 
tennis  and  golf  tournaments  took  place,  was  new  to 
David  and  he  found  it  very  delightful.  It  was  so 
idle  and  luxurious,  so  carefree  and  healthy.  It 
was  such  a  normal  and  graceful  use  of  wealth. 
These  people  never  seemed  to  have  a  want  or  de- 
sire which  they  could  not  immediately  gratify  and 
at  the  same  time  their  wants  and  desires  were  all 
so  perfectly  natural  and  becoming.  Playing 
games,  swimming,  dancing — it  was  almost  childlike 
in  its  simplicity.  When  one  was  tired  there  was  a 
deeply  cushioned  chair  waiting  in  a  shady  corner ; 
when  one  was  thirsty  there  was  an  iced  drink  to  be 
had  for  the  touch  of  a  bell ;  when  one  was  hungry 
there  was  everything  one  could  wish  for  brought 
graciously  by  sleek  and  smiling  waiters.  ' '  This  is 
the  real  thing!"  David  told  himself.  "This  is 
what  I  have  always  wanted!"  The  keys  of  the 
City  had  unlocked  another  door  for  him. 

Often,  at  night,  Evelyn  would  come  to  him  and 
put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  saying,  "I  'm  so 
proud  of  you,  David.  Everybody  likes  you.  And 
you  look  so  well  in  your  summer  clothes.  You  're 
really  quite  decorative,  dear — "  Then,  with  an 
air  of  confession —  "For  a  time  on  our  honey- 


200  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

moon,  for  just  a  little  time,  I  wondered  if  we  were 
going  to  get  on  together.  How  silly  it  was  of  me. 
I  'm  so  happy  now.  If  only  we  could  always  be  as 
happy  as  we  have  been  this  first  summer. ' ' 

"How  ridiculous!  What  are  you  afraid  of, 
poor,  foolish  little  thing?" 

"Oh,  David,  we  're  so  happy  that  somehow  it 
does  n't  seem  right.  It  seems  to  me  sometimes  as 
if  we  '11  have  to  pay  for  this  happiness  with  sor- 
row." 

Then  David  would  put  his  arms  around  her 
(very  lovely  she  looked  with  her  pale  gold  hair  in 
braids  down  her  back)  and  pet  her  into  reassur- 
ance. 

In  September,  Evelyn  aroused  herself  from  the 
summer's  lethargy  and  developed  a  violent  inter- 
est in  house  hunting.  She  journeyed  to  the  City 
nearly  every  day  for  a  week  or  two.  At  last  she 
told  David  she  had  found  a  most  attractive  apart- 
ment on  Brooklyn  Heights,  not  far  from  the  big 
Foster  house. 

"But  I  thought  we  were  to  live  in  New  York?" 
protested  David. 

"New  York  rents  are  impossible.  Besides,  I 
want  to  stay  near  the  people  I  know." 

Although  David  wondered  why  he  had  not  been 
consulted  in  the  matter,  he  decided  to  say  noth- 
ing further.  He  had  long  since  learned  that  to 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  201 

cross  Evelyn's  will  was  but  to  provoke  a  quarrel 
in  which,  sooner  or  later,  he  was  forced  to  capitu- 
late. One  of  the  reasons  for  the  summer's  suc- 
cess was  that  he  had  learned  that  lesson. 

Evelyn's  feverish  activity  was  resumed  after 
a  brief  intermission.  It  was  directed  now  against 
furnishers,  painters,  paper-hangers,  tradesmen 
of  various  sorts.  She  returned  to  Woodmere 
evenings,  sometimes  later  than  David  himself  got 
back  from  business.  Dark  circles  of  fatigue  were 
beneath  her  eyes,  her  voice  was  plaintive  with 
weariness.  She  refused  all  invitations,  retired 
early,  and  had  David  read  her  to  sleep  while  she 
lay  propped  up  in  bed,  her  thin  shoulders  buried 
in  pillows,  her  braided  hair  a  silver  rope  upon  the 
blue  silk  of  the  wrap  she  wore.  "I  suppose  it 's 
selfish  of  me,  David,"  she  said,  "but,  after  all,  it 's 
for  your  sake  as  well  as  mine  that  I  'm  working 
this  way. ' ' 

"Why  don't  you  let  me  help?  Don't  you  trust 
my  judgment  in  furniture  and  carpets  ? ' ' 

"I  've  dreamed  for  years  of  what  my  own 
home  shall  be  like.  I  don't  want  any  interference 
from  a  mere  man.  I  know  you  '11  be  pleased,  dear. 
I  'm  not  going  to  let  you  see  a  thing  until  it 's  all 
ready.  You  have  your  business.  This  is  mine." 
And  pulling  his  head  over  towards  her  she  ran  her 
fingers  through  his  hair,  rubbed  her  smooth  cheek 


202  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

against  his,  saying  in  a  childish  voice  which  she 
affected  now  and  then,  "Let  Evelyn  have  her 
way.  Be  a  good  boy,  David.  Little  Evelyn  's  so 
tired." 

Finally,  one  October  morning,  according  to  her 
instructions,  he  said  farewell  to  Woodmere  and 
reported  that  evening  at  his  new  home.  She  even 
had  to  tell  him  how  to  find  it.  That  seemed  a  huge 
joke  to  them. 

Walking  smartly  down  from  the  Subway,  he 
discovered  a  shining,  white-stone  apartment  house 
in  Montague  Street  which  corresponded  with 
the  number  Evelyn  had  given  him.  The  waters 
of  the  bay  glimmered  not  far  away  and  a  tree  in 
the  yard  of  an  old  house  next  door  glowed  crim- 
son against  the  sky.  He  stepped  into  an  elaborate 
marble  hallway  and  feeling  as  if  he  were  a 
stranger  paying  a  call  in  an  unknown  house,  was 
lifted  in  a  small  gilt  cage  to  the  fourth  floor.  A 
smiling  maid  in  a  neat  black  waist  and  white 
apron  answered  his  ring. 

"Is  my  wife  here?"  David  asked  awkwardly. 

She  burst  out  laughing  from  behind  a  portiere 
and  threw  her  arms  around  him.  "  Is  n  't  it  fun, 
David?  And  is  n't  it  ridiculous  1  Now,  I  '11  show 
you  around."  She  barely  gave  him  time  to  re- 
move his  coat.  Hand  in  hand,  they  wandered 
from  room  to  room.  He  found  each  furnished  ex- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  203 

quisitely;  his  store  of  appropriate  adjectives  was 
soon  exhausted.  In  the  living-room  there  was  an 
open  fireplace ;  green  draperies  hung  at  the  doors, 
chrysanthemums  in  a  tall  vase  stood  on  a  mahog- 
any desk,  and  old  prints  in  dark  wood  frames  were 
on  the  walls.  The  dining-room  held  furniture  of 
dull  brown  oak  and  curtains  of  a  peculiarly  vivid 
deep  blue.  Evelyn's  bedroom  was  gay  with  chintz 
and  pillows,  water-colors,  photographs,  and  white 
furniture.  It  was  not  until  he  came  to  his  own 
room  that  the  least  discord  was  struck.  For  at 
the  sight  of  chintz  and  white  here,  too,  he  frowned. 

" Don't  you  think  it  's  a  little  overdone  for  a 
man's  room?"  he  asked. 

Evelyn  pouted  and  dropped  his  hand.  "Of 
course,  I  knew  you  'd  find  fault  with  something. ' ' 

She  stood  drooping  and  chilled  for  a  minute  or 
two.  "  You  can  have  it  changed  if  you  wish,"  she 
suggested  at  last. 

"No,  I  suppose  I  '11  get  used  to  it,"  he  said  re- 
luctantly, and  she  bloomed  again. 

"But  I  have  n't  shown  you  the  real  jewel  of  the 
apartment.  I  Ve  kept  it  hidden  till  the  last. ' ' 

She  led  him  back  to  the  living-room  and  with 
the  air  of  a  priestess  presiding  at  a  rite,  pulled  a 
green  curtain  away  from  the  wall.  A  painting 
was  revealed. 

"It 's  a  real  Anton  Mauve,"  she  whispered  rev- 


204  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

erentially.  "I  bought  it  at  auction.  Don't  ask 
me  what  I  paid  for  it. ' ' 

"But  you  've  ruined  me,  Evelyn!"  he  cried  in 
consternation  which  was  not  altogether  feigned. 

"I  Ve  paid  for  everything, "  she  said,  and  waved 
her  hand  generously.  "Everything  out  of  my 
own  money.  That  's  my  share,  David." 

"But,  Evelyn—" 

She  covered  his  lips  with  her  rosy  ones.  "To 
what  better  use  could  I  put  my  money,  dear?" 

"I  feel  like  a  male  Nora  in  this  doll's  house,"  he 
said  later. 

But  Evelyn  did  not  understand  him.  "Doll's 
house!"  she  echoed.  "Well,  if  you  'd  had  to  pay 
the  bills  you  would  n't  call  it  a  doll's  house !" 

The  maid  entering  discreetly  announced  dinner 
and  they  went  into  the  dull  brown  and  blue  room 
together  and  sat  glowing  happily  at  each  other 
across  the  silver  and  crystal. 

Gradually  into  the  routine  of  their  quiet  eve- 
nings at  home,  evenings  devoted  to  books  and  the 
newspaper,  perhaps  a  game  of  cards  or  to  de- 
sultory discussions  of  the  day's  incidents,  came  a 
slight  feeling  of  unrest.  "We  '11  have  to  do  some 
entertaining,  I  suppose,  David,"  Evelyn  said. 
"What  's  the  use  of  having  a  Mauve  if  you  can't 
show  it  to  any  one?  Besides  people  will  be  get- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  205 

ting  back  to  town.  They  '11  expect  us  to  do  some- 
thing for  them,  if  only  to  repay  them  for  their  wed- 
ding presents. ' '  Slipping  over  to  the  desk,  she  be- 
gan to  select  names  for  a  dinner  party,  jotting  the 
favored  ones  down  on  a  long  slip  of  paper,  scratch- 
ing some  out  after  they  were  down,  substituting 
others. 

1  'Why  not  ask  John  Powell? "  asked  David,  from 
his  chair  beside  the  lamp. 

1  <I  don't  like  him." 

"He  's  done  so  much  for  me,  Evelyn.  He  's  the 
person  I  should  most  of  all  like  to  entertain  in  my 
own  home." 

1  'Some  other  time,  then,"  she  murmured  petu- 
lantly. "I  'm  only  going  to  have  people  I  like  at 
my  first  dinner  party. ' ' 

The  affair  turned  out  very  felicitously.  Evelyn 
sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  flushed  and  trium- 
phant. 

"Do  you  think  everybody  had  a  good  time?" 
she  asked  afterwards.  "The  soup  was  too  salty, 
did  you  notice,  David?  Did  you  see  how  Alice 
Donaldson  pushed  it  away  from  her  ?  I  hate  peo- 
ple like  that.  But  I  think  it  was  a  success,  don't 
you?" 

That  first  dinner  party  was  the  beginning  of 
many.  They  received  invitations  in  return  and, 
almost  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  David  found 


206  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

himself  hurrying  home  every  afternoon  to  dress  to 
go  one  place  or  another.  A  round  of  meaning- 
less social  affairs  seemed  to  get  him  in  its  hard 
grasp. 

'  *  We  are  going  to  the  Perrys '  to-night,  David, ' ' 
Evelyn  would  say  at  breakfast — she  made  a  point 
of  having  breakfast  with  him,  attired  in  a  loose 
silk  wrap,  yawning,  and  with  a  keen  appreciation 
of  the  sacrifice  she  was  making  to  her  duty  as  a 
wife.  "If  you  leave  the  office  a  little  early,  we  '11 
motor -down  to  the  Perrys'.  The  trains  to  Doug- 
laston  are  so  uncertain.  I  made  arrangements 
with  mother  yesterday  to  use  her  car." 

"But,  my  dear,  I  can't  leave  the  office  early  every 
day.  I  'm  ashamed  to  pass  John  Powell's  office. 
You  see  if  I  neglect  my  share  of  the  work  he  has 
to  shoulder  it. ' ' 

"Oh,  just  this  time,  David.  I  shan't  ask  it 
again. ' ' 

Even  David's  Sundays  were  arranged  for. 
Every  Sunday  Evelyn  and  he  were  compelled  to 
have  dinner  with  the  Fosters — a  long,  tedious  din- 
ner of  many  courses.  The  climax  of  the  Fosters ' 
Sunday  was  reached  in  that  dinner.  They  did 
not  believe  in  "doing  much  on  Sunday,"  as  they 
expressed  it.  After  church  in  the  morning  the 
whole  day  was  left  idle  for  them,  except  for  the 
momentous  dinner.  It  assumed  importance  of 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  207 

immense  proportions  and  it  dragged  its  weary 
length  through  an  interminable  succession  of 
dishes. 

After  dinner  they  sat,  heavily  overfed,  in  the 
long  drawing-room;  Mrs.  Foster  and  Evelyn  dis- 
cussed their  friends  and  their  dresses,  whispers 
of  marriages,  of  births  and  deaths  floated  through 
the  room;  Mr.  Foster  nodded  over  the  Sunday 
paper;  David  walked  restlessly  up  and  down  the 
room,  puffing  furiously  at  one  cigar  after  another 
— Mrs.  Foster  approved  of  cigarettes  even  less 
than  Evelyn,  but  cigars,  for  some  reason  or  other, 
were  not  held  to  be  as  vicious  as  cigarettes. 

While  David  paced  he  thought  of  the  hideous 
Sundays  of  his  youth,  when  his  mother  would  not 
let  him  go  out  on  the  beach  to  play  because  it  was 
4 'wicked"  to  do  so  on  the  Sabbath.  "You  can 
play  every  other  day  in  the  week.  It  's  not  proper 
on  Sunday, ' '  he  could  remember  her  saying.  Her 
voice  seemed  to  echo  through  the  large  drawing- 
room  of  the  Foster  house,  with  its  ornate,  silk-cov- 
ered chairs  and  damask  portieres.  He  thought 
how  ironical  it  was  that,  after  so  many  years  of 
freedom,  he  should  feel  the  chains  of  this  outgrown 
conventionality  once  more. 

One  Sunday  he  revolted. 

"I  'm  not  going  to  your  father's  to-day,"  he 
announced. 


208  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Evelyn  regarded  him  incredulously.  "Why 
not?" 

He  floundered  for  reasons.  "I  don't  want  to 
go.  It 's  insufferable." 

"But  what  will' they  think?" 

"I  don't  care  what  they  think.  You  go  and  I  '11 
stay  home  and  read. ' ' 

"But  I  have  n't  arranged  for  dinner,  home." 

"I  'd  rather  go  without  dinner  than  go  there." 

She  made  a  gesture  of  helplessness  and  re- 
peated, "But  why?" 

"That  unnatural  formality — those  deadly  old- 
fashioned  ideas  about  behaving  one  way  on  Sun- 
day and  a  different  way  on  all  other  days. ' ' 

"I  understand,  my  dear,"  she  said  appealingly, 
"but  they  don't.  They  're  too  old  to  change.  We 
can't  change  them  now  and  there  's  no  sense  in 
shocking  their  feelings — they  'd  be  hurt — terribly 
hurt,  that 'sail." 

He  sank  deeper  in  the  chair  as  if  it  were  a  refuge 
and  resumed  his  reading.  "Well,  I  'm  not  go- 
ing." 

"But  what  will  they  think?" 

"I  don't  give  a  damn  what  they  think." 

She  turned  from  him,  pale  and  shaken,  and  went 
to  the  telephone.  He  heard  her  say :  ' '  We  shan  't 
be  around,  David  does  n't  feel  well." 

Then  she  returned  to  sit  with  him.    He  looked 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  209 

up  from  his  book  to  find  her  weeping  silently.  He 
tried  to  disregard  her  and  found  that  his  book  had 
lost  all  interest.  He  flung  it  down  and  jumped  to 
his  feet  with:  "Oh,  it  's  too  bad — too  damn  bad 
that  such  a  little  thing  should  upset  you  so. ' ' 

She  gave  him  a  wet  and  reproachful  glance.  ' '  It 
is  n  't  a  little  thing  to  me,  David. ' ' 

He  could  resist  no  longer  and  found  her  re- 
sponsive to  his  caresses.  "I  suppose  I  did  act  like 
a  brute,  Evelyn." 

She  melted  into  his  arms  with  a  babble  of  inco- 
herent remarks.  "They  'd  think  it  so  strange  if 
I  came  alone.  They  'd  think  we  'd  quarreled. 
And  if  they  knew  you  did  n't  want  to  come,  David, 
they  'd  feel  so  hurt.  You  '11  go  next  Sunday, 
won't  you?" 

In  desperation  he  promised,  and  found  he  was 
caught  up  in  the  endless  chain  again. 

It  was  that  way  in  many  things.  .  .  . 


WHY  weren't  they  happy?    What  did  they 
demand  of  each  other  I     There  was  no  an- 
swer to  the  questions  except  the  presence  of  the 
questions  themselves. 

They  had  been  married  over  a  year.  Even  the 
second  summer,  spent  like  the  first  in  the  home  of 
Evelyn's  parents  at  Woodmere,  had  lost  its 
glamour.  The  golf,  the  tennis,  the  motoring,  the 
idle  luxurious  life,  all  were  the  same;  even  the 
people  were  the  same — and  yet  David  was  not 
satisfied.  Why?  He  did  not  know.  It  was  as 
idle  to  question  as  it  is  to  analyze  the  weariness 
that  overtakes  one  on  spring  days  or  the  sadness 
that  weighs  one  down  when  a  certain  strain  of 
music  is  sounded. 

It  was  as  if  the  first  summer  were  temperate 
and  sunny,  with  the  green  of  trees  and  grass  wet 
with  fragrance ;  as  if  the  second  summer  were  hot 
and  dusty,  with  every  little  leaf  and  blade  of  grass 
dried,  browned,  and  withered.  One  summer's 
beauty,  of  course,  was  as  full  bosomed  as  the 
other's,  but  it  seemed  to  David  as  if  one  held  all 
and  the  other  none. 

210 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  211 

It  was,  too,  as  if  their  tempers  had  become 
parched  and  dried,  grown  brittle,  suddenly  break- 
ing forth  into  sparks  .  .  . 

They  returned  to  Brooklyn  earlier  that  autumn, 
feeling  that  possibly  in  the  seclusion  of  their  own 
home  there  would  not  be  so  much  cause  for  discon- 
tent. Mrs.  Foster's  yearning  solicitations  and 
Mr.  Foster's  clumsy  interference  had  grown  in- 
tolerable. 

But  the  change  brought  little  surcease. 

It  was  a  constant  battle  between  them — Evelyn 
battling  for  possession,  David  for  freedom.  He 
felt  that  Evelyn  wanted  to  possess  his  every 
thought  and  feeling — his  every  interest.  She  was 
actually  jealous  of  his  business. 

"What  does  it  matter  if  the  business  does  suf- 
fer a  little?"  she  once  asked  him.  "We  have 
plenty  of  money.  There  's  so  much  more  to  life 
than  mere  money-grubbing.  It 's  so  sordid." 

"But  don't  you  understand,  Evelyn?  It  isn't 
just  the  money.  It  's  the  fun  of  the  thing — a 
man  's  got  to  do  something. ' ' 

"Yes,  but  he  has  no  right  to  place  his  business 
above  everything  else,  including  his  wife's  happi- 
ness. Oh,  I  Ve  heard  of  such  cases  and  of  how 
they  've  ended." 

David  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  'm  afraid 
you  get  too  many  of  your  ideas  from  exaggerated 


212  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

novels.  Look  at  it  this  way:  I  get  paid  for  do- 
ing certain  work.  If  I  don't  do  it,  it 's  cheating." 

' '  But  you  're  a  member  of  the  firm  now.  Some 
day  you  '11  be  the  head  of  it.  John  Powell  will 
have  to  take  his  orders  from  you.  He  's  in  back 
of  all  this  silly  conscientiousness  of  yours.  I  can 
see  that.  Money  and  work — that  's  all  he  knows. 
He  does  n't  appreciate  the  finer  things." 

"What  finer  things?" 

"I  can't  explain  exactly,  but  going  out  and  see- 
ing people,  nice  people.  Entertaining — broaden- 
ing oneself — all  that."  She  spread  out  her  hands 
in  an  ineffectual  gesture. 

"If  I  am  not  going  to  do  the  work,  I  had  better 
resign. ' ' 

Evelyn  looked  up  hopefully.  "If  you  resigned 
we  could  go  abroad  for  a  year  or  two. ' ' 

Her  calm  acceptance  of  his  statement  maddened 
him.  He  slapped  his  hand  on  the  table.  * '  I  have 
no  intention  of  resigning.  My  work  's  the  only 
thing  I  have  left." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"I  mean  that  sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  were  los- 
ing my  individuality,  Evelyn.  I  'm  becoming  an 
automaton.  You  're  robbing  me  of  all  incentive, 
all  ambition,  by  making  me  so  damned  comfort- 
able. It  isn't  good  for  a  man." 

She  gazed  at  him  bewildered  while  the  tears 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  213 

gathered  in  her  eyes.  ''And  you  blame  me  for 
doing  that!"  she  cried. 

David  felt  that  he  would  have  liked  to  weep  with 
her.  The  pity  of  it !  She  could  not  look  at  things 
with  his  eyes — not  for  the  shortest  minute  could 
she  see  a  thing  as  he  saw  it !  Nor  could  he  take 
her  viewpoint.  It  was  as  if  they  each  used  a  lan- 
guage which  the  other  only  partly  understood.  It 
was  as  if,  husband  and  wife,  they  lived  with  a 
heavy  veil  between  them  through  which  neither 
could  see  the  other  clearly. 

They  had  their  great  battle  one  October  eve- 
ning about  a  month  after  they  had  returned  from 
the  country. 

David  found  Evelyn  in  the  living-room  that 
night.  She  stood  before  the  fireplace  awaiting 
him,  her  very  attitude  one  of  accusation,  of  bitter 
reproach. 

"Will  you  please  explain  those  things?"  she 
said,  pointing  dramatically  to  a  little  litter  of  ar- 
ticles on  the  table. 

He  recognized  the  silver  thimble,  the  letters,  the 
faded  photograph  of  Nora  taken  on  the  beach  so 
long  ago.  Across  the  back  of  his  neck  he  felt  a 
stinging  sensation  as  if  some  one  had  struck  him. 

"Evidently  you  Ve  been  searching  through  my 
personal  belongings." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind!"  she  threw  back  at  him. 


214  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"Babette  found  them  in  the  lowest  drawer  of  your 
bureau  this  morning  when  she  was  cleaning  and 
brought  them  to  me. ' ' 

' '  They  are  nothing  more  than  remembrances  of 
my  childhood. ' ' 

"Of  a  love  affair!" 

"Yes." 

"What  business  had  you  to  keep  them  after  I  be- 
came your  wife?  Don't  think  I  didn't  have  re- 
membrances. I  burned  bundles  of  letters.  You 
should  have  done  the  same.  It  was  only  fair  to 
me." 

"Perhaps  it  was  that  I  cared  for  them  more  than 
you  did  for  yours,"  he  said. 

She  swayed  as  if  he  had  struck  her,  then  leaped 
across  the  room,  seized  the  little  group  of  things 
from  the  table  and  threw  them  into  the  open  fire. 
Flame  leaped  up,  a  few  black  scraps  fluttered,  over 
a  bright  coal  a  little  puddle  of  melted  silver  formed 
— and  they  were  gone. 

David  made  no  motion  to  restrain  her  nor  to 
rescue  his  possessions.  But  he  felt  the  heat  and 
the  burn  across  the  back  of  his  neck  swell  and 
grow,  steal  around  as  if  a  hand  were  choking  him. 
"You  shouldn't  have  done  that,  Evelyn,"  he  said 
quietly. 

She  made  no  answer  but  threw  herself  on  the 
couch,  her  body  shaking  with  sobs ;  presently  she 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  215 

raised  her  face  from  her  arms  to  say,  "I  wish  I  had 
the  courage  to  leave  you. ' ' 

Suddenly  David  felt  calmness  descending  over 
him;  it  was  as  if  he  viewed  this  vulgar  outbreak 
from  a  distance,  as  if  he  were  another  person.  He 
seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  table  and  lighted 
a  cigarette.  "  Perhaps  that  would  be  the  better 
way,  Evelyn. ' ' 

She  looked  up  at  him,  shocked,  her  eyes  round 
and  large  in  a  face  red  with  weeping. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"We  have  n't  made  much  of  a  go  of  it,  do  you 
think?  There  has  n't  been  much  sympathy  or  un- 
derstanding. Oh,  I  know  I  'm  as  much  to  blame 
as  you.  Neither  is  to  blame,  for  that  matter.  It  's 
just  that  we  did  n't  fit,  we  two.  But  if  it 's  a  fail- 
ure, let  's  acknowledge  it.  Let 's  get  out  of  it  as 
best  we  can."  He  was  conscious  that  as  he  went 
on  her  incredulity  grew  with  his  words.  "We  're 
more  or  less  modern.  We  know  marriage  isn't 
the  sacred  thing  it  was  once  supposed  to  be.  It  's 
a  partnership.  If  there  are  no  profits,  it 's  better 
to  break  up,  put  up  the  shutters,  close  the  shop. 
The  horrible  thing  is  to  let  it  drag  on  endlessly." 

She  sat  up  straight,  rigid  with  horror.  "Oh, 
how  awful ! ' '  she  cried.  ' '  How  can  you  say  such 
things !  It 's  sacrilegious !  It  's  immoral !  It 's 
putting  us  on  a  plane  with  the  animals ! ' ' 


216  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

They  gazed  at  each  other  with  hate — hate  that 
was  founded  on  misunderstanding  and  fear — 
chiefly,  perhaps,  on  hopes  that  were  not  and  never 
could  be  realized. 

Presently  David  arose,  put  on  his  hat  and  coat, 
and  went  out.  He  walked  on  heedlessly  but,  as  if 
he  were  animated  by  a  purpose  which  he  did  not 
consciously  know,  he  made  for  the  river  front.  He 
walked  out  on  a  dock.  Below  him,  beneath  the 
stars,  the  water  gurgled  and  sucked  and  whispered 
to  him.  It  was  as  if  the  waters  had  called  to  him, 
as  if  in  his  childhood  the  voice  of  the  waters  had 
impressed  itself  upon  his  very  soul,  and  when  he 
was  in  trouble  called  to  him  and  offered  solace. 
The  waters  were  to  David  what  the  moist  brown 
earth  is  to  some  men.  .  .  . 

He  went  back  to  the  apartment  late  and,  undress- 
ing stealthily,  crept  into  bed.  But  he  had  not  been 
there  long  when  he  heard  the  creak  of  the  door 
and  a  faltering  footstep.  Evelyn  stole  into  bed 
beside  him ;  her  hair  hung  loose  and  lustrous  over 
her  shadowy  white  nightdress.  She  slid  her  body 
next  to  him,  put  her  arms  around  him,  placed  her 
lips  against  his.  Then  as  if  even  that  did  not 
satisfy  her,  she  took  the  long  strands  of  her  hair 
and  wound  them  around  his  neck.  .  .  . 

"David,  my  husband,"  she  sobbed.  "I  was  so 
afraid — so  afraid  you  might  not  come  back.  I 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  217 

can't  let  you  go.  I  have  made  you  a  little  happy  at 
times,  have  n't  I?  I  don't  care  if  there  were  other 
women  before  me,  but  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of 
others  coming  after  me  .  .  .  taking  my  place. 
Forgive  me,  dear,  and  kiss  me.  Kiss  me  again — 
again  and  again." 


CHAPTER  IV 

EVELYN'S  baby  was  born  that  winter. 
David  decided  that  here,  at  last,  was  a  bond 
between  them.  Innumerable  storied  incidents  and 
scenes  came  to  his  mind  with  a  familiar  Biblical 
quotation  to  point  the  moral.  There  was  some 
truth  in  the  worn  old  sentimentalities  after  all. 
A  holy  and  hushed  feeling  pervaded  the  house  be- 
fore the  birth.  .  .  .  David,  uplifted,  stole  around 
on  cushioned  feet,  consumed  with  anxiety,  filled 
with  vague  promises  to  the  future  if  everything 
went  well.  And  after  the  child  was  born  he  re- 
membered thinking  that  he  and  Evelyn  had  created 
a  living  thing  out  of  their  own  flesh  and  blood  and 
that  it  was  perfectly  natural  it  should  link  them  to- 
gether. 

But  the  presence  of  the  child,  while  it  created  a 
readjustment  of  the  relations  between  Evelyn  and 
himself,  did  so  in  an  entirely  unexpected  manner. 
After  Evelyn  had  recovered  from  an  illness  which 
proved  exceptionally  severe,  she  turned  her  entire 
attention  to  the  baby.  Something  had  been  put 
into  her  arms  which  gave  full  scope  to  her  mania 
for  possession.  Here  was  a  small  being  whose  life 

218 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  219 

she  could  arrange  and  order  to  her  heart's  con- 
tent; who,  in  fact,  with  lusty  voice  and  tiny, 
doubled-up  fists  insisted  upon  the  most  meticulous 
notice. 

During  those  first  months  when  the  little  girl 
hung  barely  suspended  over  the  line  of  life  which 
she  had  so  recently  crossed,  Evelyn  was  with  her 
almost  every  minute.  Even  at  night  she  yielded 
her  place  beside  the  crib  reluctantly  to  the  nurse. 
David  recalled  Evelyn  during  that  period  con- 
stantly bending  over  the  baby,  placing  her  fingers 
to  pressed  lips  if  he  entered  the  room,  turning  upon 
him  the  alarmed  oval  of  a  pale  face  grown  slightly 
hollow  beneath  the  cheek  bones,  with  eyes  enlarged 
with  apprehension.  She  was  continuously  ar- 
ranging the  child's  blankets,  smoothing  them, 
standing  by  to  see  that  the  milk  was  of  the  proper 
temperature,  always  busy,  always  occupied  with 
one  detail  or  another.  David  sometimes  won- 
dered if  her  feverish  attentions  did  not  retard  the 
child's  progress  towards  well-being. 

So,  he  found  before  long,  with  a  sense  of  amaze- 
ment that  the  personal  freedom  for  which  he  had 
fought  had  come  to  him  unasked.  Evelyn  had  no 
time  for  him.  .  .  . 

Like  a  man  in  a  strange  city,  like  one  groping 
from  dark  to  light,  he  began  to  feel  his  way  back  to 
his  old  life.  He  sought  out  former  acquaintances 


220  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

and  friends,  started  to  fill  in  the  crevices  and  gaps 
which  his  marriage  had  so  entirely  filled  and  then 
so  abruptly  left  empty. 

One  of  the  first  persons  he  renewed  his  friend- 
ship with,  of  course,  was  John  Powell.  The  first 
night  he  went  up  to  call  on  Powell  he  was  fortunate 
enough  to  find  him  at  home  and  alone.  David  had 
not  been  there  since  his  marriage  and  the  sight  of 
the  familiar  brown  room,  so  comfortable  and 
masculine  with  its  large  chairs  and  heavy  table, 
bare  of  all  irrelevances,  nursing  in  its  corners  the 
odor  of  tobacco,  was  like  a  warm  bath  to  a  chilled 
body.  He  bathed  himself  in  its  atmosphere,  let  it 
sink  into  the  very  pores  of  his  body.  As  he  stood 
there  in  this  room  which  had  always  had  its  wel- 
come for  him,  a  room  with  the  individuality  of  a 
beloved  book  or  a  warm  and  voluminous  dressing- 
gown,  he  could  not  help  but  contrast  it  with  the 
room  he  hated — his  own  room  in  the  apartment, 
the  place  of  chintz  and  white  paint  which  had  al- 
ways had  the  ill  grace  to  remind  him  that  Evelyn, 
and  not  he,  had  bought  and  paid  for  its  furnishings. 

"It 's  so  good  to  see  it  again,  John,"  he  said  to 
his  host,  with  an  apologetic  air  for  his  long  silence. 

The  relations  between  the  two  men  since  David 's 
elevation  to  membership  in  the  firm  had  undergone 
a  subtle  readjustment;  despite  the  difference  in 
their  ages  they  had  easily  fallen  into  the  habit  of 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  221 

addressing  each  other  by  their  first  names  and  it 
was  no  longer  the  employer  speaking  to  his  em- 
ployee but  two  men  of  equal  standing  consulting 
with  reference  to  each  other's  opinions. 

On  this  occasion  John  Powell  was  very  tactful. 
He  made  no  comments  upon  David's  return,  asked 
no  questions.  He  sat,  with  his  eyes  upon  the  fire, 
allowing  David  to  saunter  around  the  room  from 
one  friendly  object  to  another  until  he  finally  set- 
tled himself  in  the  chair  which  in  former  days  had 
been  considered  his.  Then  when  he  had  come  to 
anchor,  Powell  pushed  over  the  cigars  and  the  flask 
of  whisky  with  an  abrupt,  "Help  yourself." 

Nevertheless,  despite  the  older  man's  discre- 
tion, there  was  some  constraint.  Their  attitudes, 
the  very  positions  in  which  they  sat — Powell  deep 
in  his  chair,  his  chin  on  his  chest;  David,  lolling 
back,  one  leg  thrown  over  the  cushioned  arm  of  his 
chair — were  marvelously  like  a  hundred  other  eve- 
nings when  they  had  sat  thus  together.  And  it  was 
in  this  likeness  that  the  strangeness  lay.  For  al- 
most three  years  of  unknown  impulses  and  inter- 
ests stood  between  them.  Their  eyes  brushed  oc- 
casionally with  inquiring  glances;  John  Powell 
could  not  altogether  conceal  his  itch  to  question. 
What  had  brought  David  back?  Why?  Had 
Evelyn  and  he  quarreled?  He  was  ready  enough 
to  console  or  advise,  even  to  be  silent  if  that  were 


222  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

better,  but  he  must  know  something  of  the  nature 
of  the  ground  over  which  he  must  travel  to  the 
other's  confidence.  Ever  since  David's  mar- 
riage he  had  seen  him  practically  every  day  in  the 
office  but  his  presence  in  the  apartment  to-night 
for  the  first  time  in  so  many  months  only  empha- 
sized the  chasm  that  had  opened  up  between  them 
so  far  as  their  personal  affairs  were  concerned. 

"I  suppose  you  Ve  been  having  the  same  old 
parties  1 ' '  David  asked. 

"Did  you  expect  reformation?" 

* '  Of  course  not.     Same  old  crowd  t ' ' 

"Some  have  dropped  out.  But  we  don't  miss 
them,  David.  Plenty  more  to  take  their  places. ' ' 

"The  king  has  but  to  command,  John." 

Powell  looked  his  inquiry. 

David  chuckled.  "I  sometimes  used  to  imagine 
you  as  a  ruler,  John,  demanding  his  players  to 
come  before  him  and  amuse  him.  Your  parties  al- 
ways had  that  sort  of  a  feudal  air." 

Then  the  tension  again.  It  was  not  until  they 
were  fairly  started  on  the  subject  of  business  that 
the  discomfort  vanished. 

"Say,  David,  I  'm  thinking  of  opening  a  branch 
in  London,"  Powell  said  presently.  "Competi- 
tion's awful  over  there  but  lots  of  room  for  it 
— the  English  swill  tea.  Besides  it  would  be 
quite  a  stunt  to  put  it  over  the  English  fellows — 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  223 

carrying  the  war  into  the  enemy's  country. 
They  've  been  ready  enough  to  come  over  here, 
Lipton  and  the  rest  of  'em,  and  try  to  get  our  trade 
with  their  damn  'His  Eoyal  Majesty  approves* 
stuff !  What  do  we  care  what  His  Majesty  drinks  ? 
We  can  go  over  there  with  some  real  American  ad- 
vertising, like  that  department  store  fellow — Self- 
ridge,  isn't  it? — knock  'em  off  their  feet.  How 
would  you  like  to  run  over  and  look  over  the 
ground?" 

"I  don't  suppose  Evelyn  would  like  me  to  go 
without  her." 

John  Powell  digested  this  remark,  chewing 
viciously  on  his  cigar.  The  remark  had  thrown 
light  on  dark  places.  So  he  was  not  free  of 
Evelyn?  She  still  held  him.  He  gave  vent  to  a 
touch  of  bitterness.  '  *  Has  n  't  gotten  over  the  idea 
of  holding  you  fast,  eh?  I  thought  the  kid  might 
have  satisfied  her. ' ' —  As  David  did  not  answer, 
he  added :  ' '  Oh,  well,  we  '11  drop  the  thought  of  it 
for  the  present.  Maybe  I  '11  go  myself  next 
spring." 

When  David  arose  to  go,  later,  John  Powell  ac- 
companied him  to  the  door.  He  placed  his  hand 
affectionately  on  the  other's  shoulder.  "Say,  I 
saw  those  posters  you  got  up  for  Maroma.  Fine 
— fine !  Best  thing  you  've  done  in  a  long  time. 


224  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

We  need  something  new,  David.  More  ginger! 
It  's  been  pretty  hard  sledding  for  me  alone.  I 
miss  your  enthusiasm,  my  boy — got  no  one  to  talk 
to.  Can't  you  get  the  habit  of  running  up  here 
nights  a  couple  of  times  a  week?  I  won't  ask  too 
much.  Don't  want  to  get  Evelyn  going  so  she 
won't  let  you  come  at  all.  Say,  she  hates  me, 
does  n't  she?  I  Ve  got  her  number  and  she  knows 
it.  Well,  we  won't  talk  about  it.  Tip  me  off  when 
you  're  coming  so  I  '11  be  sure  to  be  here." 

"  Yes,  I  '11  do  that." 

"Good!"  John  Powell's  face  shone.  "We  '11 
start  growing  again — new  plans,  new  ideas — grow- 
ing and  growing.  London — Paris,  maybe,  the 
whole  world ! ' ' 

They  laughed  together  in  a  triumph  of  optimism. 

"It  is  like  old  times !"  said  David. 

Thereafter  he  did  go  up  to  John  Powell's  at 
least  once  a  week.  Occasionally,  they  had  dinner 
together.  He  savored  his  new  freedom  with  the 
keenest  relish. 

But,  fine  as  it  was,  there  was  something  missing. 
One  afternoon,  musing  at  his  desk,  he  thought  sud- 
denly of  Nora.  She  seemed  to  come  full-bodied 
from  out  the  background  of  his  thoughts  and  stand 
before  him.  The  desire  to  see  her  became  irre- 
sistible. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  225 

He  did  not  know  where  she  lived.  He  had  not 
seen  her  since  the  day,  shortly  before  his  marriage, 
when  they  had  gone  back  to  the  beach  together — 
that  day  filled  with  the  sad  sweetness  of  old 
memories.  She  had  refused  him  her  address  (and 
he  could  see  her  standing  beneath  the  yellow  glow 
of  the  subway  lights,  shaking  her  head  solemnly 
and  saying,  "  I  'm  wiser  in  this,  David  " ) .  But  she 
had  told  him,  he  remembered,  that  she  was  living  in 
Brooklyn —  Not  Bay  Ridge — "the  other  end  of 
Brooklyn." 

With  some  absurd  excuse  to  himself,  he  started 
pilgrimages  to  Williamsburg,  Greenpoint,  those 
outlying  districts  of  Brooklyn  which  had  always 
been  an  unknown  country  to  him.  He  explored 
miles  of  streets  filled  with  little  wooden  houses  and 
new  tenements,  overflowing  with  aliens,  districts 
where  no  one  seemed  very  wealthy  and  no  one  very 
poor,  where  thousands  upon  thousands  of  per- 
fectly commonplace  people  pursued  busily  a  com- 
monplace life  which  seemed  mysterious  and 
strange  to  him.  Into  many  women's  faces  he 
peered  but  he  never  saw  Nora.  Once  he  followed 
a  slim,  firm-stepping  figure  for  blocks  but  when 
the  girl  paused  before  the  lighted  window  of  a 
millinery  shop,  he  saw  how  ridiculous  his  mistake 
had  been. 

Then  some  weeks  after  he  had  abandoned  these 


226 


trips,  one  blowy  March  morning  when  flags  stood 
rigidly  out  from  flagpoles  and  the  sky  was  filled 
with  long  torn  strips  of  clouds,  he  found  a  letter 
from  Nora  awaiting  him  on  his  desk. 


CHAPTER  V 

EVELYN  awoke  at  times  from  her  absorption 
in  the  baby  to  demand  imperatively  that 
David  take  her  out  somewhere. 

"I  '11  go  mad  if  I  stay  in  the  house  any  longer," 
she  said  once.  "Take  me  to  dinner  and  the 
theater.  I  don't  even  know  what  's  going  on. 
Let 's  go  to  see  something  that  will  cheer  me  up. ' ' 

In  the  restaurant,  blooming  with  gay  dresses, 
bubbling  with  chatter,  she  seemed  to  forget  her 
duties.  A  sparkle  came  to  her  eyes,  color  to  her 
cheeks. 

"It  's  wrong  of  me  to  let  myself  go  so,"  she 
reprimanded  herself.  "If  Euth  were  only 
stronger.  Do  you  think  this  dress  looks  all  right, 
David?  It  's  fearfully  old  fashioned." 

"You  're  the  prettiest  woman  in  the  room," 
David  assured  her. 

She  did  indeed  look  lovely  in  the  dress,  whose 
black  lines  cut  vertically  at  the  throat  revealed  the 
whiteness  of  her  bosom  and  arms.  Her  hair  was 
wound  carelessly  around  her  small  head  and  little 
tendrils  escaped  and  glinted  like  polished  silver  in 
the  light. 

227 


228  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

David  was  very  happy  to  be  out  with  her.  Now 
that  she  demanded  so  little  of  his  time,  he  was  per- 
fectly willing  to  give  her  more  than  she  asked.  It 
was  somewhat  like  their  dinners  together  before 
they  had  been  married,  and  the  thought  came  to 
him  that  if  they  had  never  been  married  they 
might  have  always  remained  good  friends. 

She  detected  the  smile  on  his  lips  and  questioned 
him.  He  spoke  of  his  thoughts  reluctantly. 

1  'Why,  we  're  good  friends  now,  aren't  we?" 
she  asked,  and  she  let  her  hand  rest  on  his  for  a 
minute.  "We  Ve  given  up  asking  too  much  of 
each  other.  I,  for  one,  am  perfectly  contented 
with  things  as  they  are. ' ' 

" Don't  you  ever  feel  the  lack  of  something?" 
he  asked  after  a  minute. 

A  little  frown  appeared  between  her  eyebrows. 
1 '  Yes,  I  do,  sometimes, ' '  she  admitted.  ' '  But  then 
Euth  cries  for  me — and  I  forget  everything  else. 
It  was  awfully  kind  of  Providence  to  give  me  a 
child,  David." 

"Yes,  it  was  awfully  kind,"  he  agreed  thought- 
fully. 


CHAPTER  VI 

NORA'S  writing  was  unfamiliar  to  David  and 
he  tore  her  letter  open  carelessly,  but  his  in- 
terest soon  quickened  and  came  to  attention  as  he 
read: 

Dear  David: 

I  must  see  you.  I  need  your  advice.  Will  you  meet  me  on 
the  Sixth  Avenue  "L"  Station  at  28th  Street,  uptown  side, 
any  evening  this  week?  Let  me  know. 

NORA  DAVENPORT. 

There  followed  a  Brooklyn  address — the  * '  other 
end  of  Brooklyn"  address. 

David,  of  course,  sent  his  answer  flying  without 
delay.  He  named  the  following  evening  at 
eight.  .  .  .  An  impatient  day  crept  by,  a  long 
night,  another  day.  .  .  . 

He  hurried  through  his  dinner  that  evening  with 
Evelyn's  eyes  following  the  swift  movements  of 
his  knife  and  fork,  the  hurried  dismissal  of  one 
plate  after  another. 

"You  have  an  engagement?"  she  asked. 

He  nodded. 

229 


230  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

1  'I  had  hoped  you  would  walk  around  to  my 
mother's  with  me.  Her  rheumatism  is  troubling 
her,  and  I  said  I  'd  run  around." 

"I  'm  sorry.  You  '11  have  to  ask  one  of  the 
maids  to  act  as  your  escort."  (The  Fosters  did 
not  consider  it  proper  for  a  lady  to  be  alone  in  the 
streets  after  nightfall.) 

"I  suppose  you  're  going  up  to  see  John  Powell 
again  ? ' ' 

"No— not  to-night." 

She  did  not  question  him  further.  She  had  be- 
come accustomed  to  his  wanderings,  almost  indif- 
ferent to  them. 

When  he  stepped  out  into  Montague  Street  a 
few  minutes  later,  he  found  it  raining.  The  March 
night,  however,  was  mild  and  melancholy.  He 
hurried  up  to  the  Subway.  Fast  as  the  train 
glided  through  its  tunnel,  it  did  not  run  fast  enough 
for  his  anxiety.  At  Brooklyn  Bridge  he  jumped 
out,  ran  up  the  steps,  jostling  those  who  descended, 
and  plunged  into  a  taxicab.  The  swift  swaying 
of  the  car  as  it  bumped  over  the  cobbles  soothed  his 
unrest,  answered  some  need  within  him  for  the 
violence  of  haste. 

He  arrived  at  the  Twenty-eighth  Street  Elevated 
Station  at  quarter  to  eight.  Fifteen  long  minutes 
to  wait.  The  rain  had  turned  into  a  drizzle  which 
blew  like  a  wet  cloud  into  his  face,  and  the  air  had 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  231 

become  chilled.  David  buttoned  his  coat  to  his 
ears  and  paced  up  and  down  the  platform.  He 
stopped  and  leaned  over  the  railing,  gazing  down 
into  the  street.  Sixth  Avenue  was  disfigured  with 
one  of  the  inevitable  upheavals  which  are  tribute 
to  the  City 's  growth ;  around  red  lanterns  that 
hung  on  poles  a  little  knot  of  men  labored  and  dug 
and  carried  beams  and  ropes  hither  and  thither. 

The  fine  rain  drifted  irritatingly  like  spray 
blown  from  the  sea.  There  was  no  avoiding  it. 
He  moved  back  to  the  roofed  section  of  the  plat- 
form but  even  here  the  wet  followed,  and  he  hoped 
Nora  would  wear  sensible  clothes  while  he  re- 
proached himself  for  not  fetching  an  umbrella. 

Just  before  eight  he  saw  her  step  out  on  the 
platform  and  gaze  expectantly  up  and  down  its 
length.  He  hurried  forward,  a  huge  excitement 
filling  him.  With  outstretched  hands  they  met. 

It  was  so  good  to  see  her  again.  The  joy  of  the 
encounter  flooded  him,  left  him  speechless.  And 
how  well  she  looked !  He  remembered  that  the  last 
time  he  had  seen  her,  she  had  seemed  like  a  spirit 
harassed,  as  if  something  had  crushed  the  fine  and 
valiant  essence  of  her,  as  if  life  had  done  its  best 
to  beat  her  into  submission.  But  that  seeming 
was  gone  now!  She  stood  before  him,  confident 
and  fearless ;  only  her  eyes  were  warm  and  moist 
with  their  greeting.  She  had  dismissed  the  doubts 


232  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

and  sorrows.  What  a  brave  figure  she  was,  after 
all,  trim  with  clean-cut  outlines,  her  hair  coiled  and 
bound  in  a  shining  knot  at  the  back  of  her  head — 
dark  and  lustrous,  smooth  as  the  wings  of  a  bird. 

At  last  she  spoke.  "How  good  it  is  of  you  to 
come,  David." 

"How  glad  I  was  to  come." 

"I  'm  up  against  a  problem.  Will  you  help 
me?" 

He  nodded  his  eagerness. 

She  threw  her  quiet,  sure  glance  around  the 
station;  a  bevy  of  people  waited  for  trains;  no 
sooner  were  they  carried  away  by  one  train  than 
others  took  their  places,  standing  patiently  in 
groups  waiting  to  continue  their  journeyings. 

"Let  's  go  down  and  walk  around.  I  can't  talk 
here,"  she  said. 

"What  about  the  rain?  You  Ve  no  umbrella 
nor  have  I.  I  can  buy  one.  Or  shall  we  go  into 
some  restaurant,  find  a  quiet  corner,  and  talk 
there?" 

"No.  I  'd  rather  be  outside  to-night.  It 's  so 
good  to  be  out.  This  coat  of  mine  is  rainproofed 
and — "  she  extended  a  hand,  palm  up  to  the 
heavens — "it  's  little  more  than  mist.  But  what 
about  you  ?  Are  you  all  right  ? ' ' 

"Of  course,"  he  laughed. 

They  descended  to  the  street  and  walked  up 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  233 

Sixth  Avenue.  The  rain  transformed  New  York 
into  a  fairyland.  The  yellow  and  white  lights 
quivered  in  long  reflections  on  the  pavements  glit- 
tering with  wet.  It  had  become  a  city  of  shining 
jade  set  with  strips  of  silver,  red,  blue,  and  yellow 
— especially  yellow — yellow  that  danced  and  sang 
with  intensity.  The  elevated  railroad  structure 
overhead  was  an  arch  of  mysterious  and  incredible 
delicacy,  fine  spun,  its  heavy  steel  beams  and 
girders  transformed  into  intricate  lacy  designs; 
the  automobiles  and  taxicabs  were  monsters  plung- 
ing with  glaring  eyes  out  of  one  bed  of  mist  into 
another;  over  the  roofs  of  the  buildings  floated  a 
pink  and  sparkling  cloud  of  haze  like  the  light  of 
Eoman  fire. 

4 'Is  n't  it  wonderful  on  a  night  like  this?"  said 
Nora  with  a  long  breath.  "I  don't  often  get  the 
chance  to  see  it." 

She  walked  beside  David,  matching  his  long 
strides  with  her  own,  her  head  and  shoulders 
thrown  back,  asking  no  favors.  The  collar  of  her 
tweed  raincoat  was  turned  up  around  her  neck ;  her 
hands  were  buried  in  her  pockets ;  her  small  brown 
felt  hat  sporting  a  white  cockade  fitted  closely  over 
her  head,  allowing  but  a  few  dark  strands  of  hair 
to  escape  and  curl  in  the  dampness.  She  could  al- 
most have  been  mistaken  for  a  slim  boy. 

Until  they  were  beyond  Herald  Square,  they 


234  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

walked  in  silence.  But  when  after  crossing 
Broadway,  the  street  quieted  and  their  path  was 
less  obstructed,  they  fell  into  easy  conversation. 
At  Fortieth  Street,  they  swung  to  the  right  and 
walked  several  times  around  those  two  square 
blocks  which  hold  the  Public  Library  and  the  little 
park  to  the  west  of  it.  Meanwhile  they  attacked 
the  problem  which  had  brought  Nora  back  to  David 
and  their  talk  harmonized  with  their  swift  prog- 
ress around  and  around  the  square. 

"You  remember  I  told  you  about  the  man  who 
was  in  love  with  me — until  he  found  I  was  living 

with  falter?" 

"The  Westerner?" 

"Yes— Carl  Ellis." 

"Well?" 

"I  told  you  I  had  written  him  when  I  first  came 
East,  telling  him  what  I  had  done.  I  never  heard 
from  him  until  recently.  He  wrote  me  telling  me 
frankly  that  he  had  gone  home  intending  to  forget 
me.  He  tried  to.  For  years  he  's  been  working 
— working  like  hell  he  wrote — trying  to  put  me  out 
of  his  mind.  A  short  while  ago  his  mother  died. 
That  removed  a  great  obstacle — and  left  him  with 
a  terrible  loneliness.  He  says  that  he  has  never 
cared  for  many  women — that  I  'm  the  only  one 
who  has  ever  claimed  him  body  and  soul.  He  can 't 
forget  me.  He  's  fought  it  all  out  with  himself. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY    .       235 

He  's  overcome  his  prejudices — *  foolish'  he  called 
them.  He  wants  to  see  me  again.  He  wants — to 
marry  me. ' ' 

"And  you?" 

Nora  came  to  a  stop.  She  threw  out  her  hands. 
' '  What  am  I  to  do,  David ! ' ' 

"You  care  for  him?" 

"I  hardly  feel  I  know  him.  I  liked  him  im- 
mensely. I  respect  him,  and  admire  him.  I  think 
he  's  a  big  man — really  big.  But  love  him — no ! ' ' 

1  i  He  might  make  you  happy. ' ' 

"Happy?" — she  shrugged  her  shoulders — "It  's 
a  meaningless  word.  Content — perhaps  that, 
more  than  that — useful !  That  's  the  bait  he  of- 
fers me.  He  says  there  's  work  for  me  to  do  out 
there  in  his  town.  He  himself  has  been  doing  all 
sorts  of  reform  work  lately — that  was  part  of  his 
program  of  forgetting.  Now  he  wants  me  to  come 
out  and  join  forces  with  him.  He  's  started  a 
trade  school  for  boys — teaches  them  useful  things 
— takes  them  out  of  the  street  and  turns  them  into 
artisans,  skilled,  proud  of  their  work.  He  says  I 
can  do  the  same  thing  with  the  girls.  Fit  them  out 
for  the  battle.  How  did  he  know  that  would  ap- 
peal to  me  so  tremendously,  David ;  appeal  to  me 
more  than  anything  else  1 ' ' 

"I  begin  to  respect  him,  too,"  said  David 
soberly,  and  he  thought  with  bitterness  of  his  own 


236  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

aimless  life,  which,  it  seemed  to  him  now,  had  been 
spent  in  escaping  from  one  futility  to  another. 

"Think  of  the  blessedness  of  preparing  those 
poor  little  girls  for  life,  instructing  them,  helping 
them  to  grow  up  wise  and  beautiful,  equipped  to 
make  a  decent  living  for  themselves  or  to  become 
mothers  of  a  finer,  nobler  race.  Oh,  I  know  I  'm 
idealizing  it,  exaggerating  the  possibilities.  But 
Carl,  you  know,  has  the  money — loads  of  money. 
It  would  be  such  a  worth  while  mission!" 

1  'The  thought  of  your  own  untrained  youth 
goads  you  on?" 

"Yes,  it  does.  It  would  be  my  revenge  on 
things  for  making  me  face  my  destiny  so  unpre- 
pared. Where  I  was  cheated  I  would  see  that  a 
hundred  went  forth  equipped." 

They  strode  half  a  block  without  speaking. 
Presently  David  came  forth  with : 

"I  don't  see  what 's  holding  you  back,  Nora." 

"The  price.  Marriage  with  a  man  I  don't  love. 
I  've  seen  what  the  horrors  of  that  are,  remember, 
although  I  wasn't  married." 

"You  can't  compare  this  man  and  Walter  Brad- 
ford." 

"No,  but  under  certain  conditions  you  can  come 
to  hate  a  good  man  as  passionately  as  a  bad  one." 

"Is  love  necessary?  I  've  often  wondered  if 
it 's  nothing  more  than  a  myth — an  ideal. ' ' 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  237 

She  gave  him  a  swift  glance.  "Have  you  al- 
ways thought  that?" 

"No,  not  always,"  he  admitted  grimly,  after  a 
minute. 

' '  But  I  was  not  talking  of  the  conventional  idea 
of  love,"  she  explained  quickly  and  a  little  impa- 
tiently. "But  something  is  demanded.  The 
woman  must  be  ready  to  surrender.  I  'm  not.  I 
can't  bear  the  thought  of  it." 

"Why  won't  he  offer  you  that  work — the  work 
that  tempts  you  so — without  marriage  ?  He  's  big 
enough.  You  make  him  seem  as  if  he  were.  Why 
couldn't  you  go  out  there  and  work  with  him — 
'join  forces'  as  he  said — without  marrying  him?" 

She  smiled  sadly.  "You  don't  know  him. 
He  'd  make  me  that  offer  readily.  For  he  knows 
that  if  I  come  out  there,  sooner  or  later,  I  '11  marry 
him." 

"Why?" 

"His  power — his,  what  some  people  call,  'mag- 
netism.' 

"But  in  that  case,  he  'd  have  won  you  to  the 
point  of  surrender.  The  repugnance  would  be 
gone. ' ' 

She  frowned  thoughtfully.  After  a  while  she 
said,  "Yes." — and  again,  "Yes." 

They  were  rounding  the  square  for  the  third  or 
fourth  time.  Over  Broadway  hung  a  million 


238  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

lights ;  circles  and  splashes  and  splintered  streaks 
of  light  were  painted  on  the  wet  pavements. 
David  suddenly  realized  how  much  he  had  enjoyed 
this  walk  with  Nora.  It  would  go  down  in  history 
among  the  memorable  hours  he  had  spent  with  her 
and  he  thought  of  his  life  as  a  book  in  which  there 
were  certain  pages  illuminated  as  the  monks  used 
to  illuminate  their  manuscripts,  and  these  pages 
were  the  days  he  had  spent  with  Nora.  And  now 
soon  she  would  be  gone — gone  forever — no.  more 
pages  of  illumination  but  the  dead  routine  of  black 
and  white,  black  and  white.  .  .  . 

He  turned  to  let  his  eyes  drink  their  fill  of  her 
while  they  could,  and  he  saw  a  slight  tremor  shake 
her. 

' '  Are  you  cold  ? "  he  asked  bruskly. 

She  gave  him  her  hand  for  answer.  He  found  it 
icy.  At  once,  his  imaginings  and  his  fancies  van- 
ished; gone  was  the  glory  of  the  jade  and  gold 
night. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me!"  he  demanded  an- 
grily and  as  the  doorway  of  the  Beaux  Arts  Cafe 
loomed  in  sight,  "Let  's  go  in  here.  We  '11  get 
something  hot  to  drink." 

"Isn't  it  too  late?"  she  hesitated.  "I  have  a 
long  journey  ahead  of  me." 

"I  '11  send  you  home  in  a  taxi. ' ' 

They   passed  through   a   revolving   door,   de- 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  239 

scended  a  shallow  flight  of  steps  and  a  brilliantly 
lighted,  noisy,  crowded  room  burst  upon  them. 
The  whiteness  of  many  cloth-covered  tables  dazzled 
them,  the  glitter  of  glasses  and  carafes,  the  sheen 
of  silken  dresses  and  the  bare  arms  and  shoulders 
of  women  dotted  here  and  there  with  the  intense 
black  and  white  of  men's  attire  .  .  .  and,  as  they 
stepped  into  the  room,  the  orchestra  set  up  a  vio- 
lent and  hilarious  strumming  and  a  dozen  couples 
whirled  around  a  square  patch  of  cleared  floor  in 
the  center  of  the  room,  locked  and  swaying  in  the 
mazes  of  the  dance. 

"I  look  so  rain-soaked  and  shoddy,"  whispered 
Nora,  but  David  took  her  arm  and  led  her  to  a  small 
table  in  a  far  corner.  Presently  amber  cocktails, 
steaming  coffee  and  mushrooms,  brown  and 
creamy,  clasped  tightly  within  small  earthen  dishes 
were  brought  to  them. 

Over  her  cup,  Nora's  eyes  scrutinized  the 
dancers.  "It  's  all  new  to  me,"  she  said. 

' '  Have  you  buried  yourself  to  such  an  extent  as 
that?" 

' '  Recovering  from  my  wounds.  And  working — 
working  hard. ' ' 

"You  're  still  in  the  same  place?" 

"Yes.  I  Ve  really  become  quite  important  over 
there.  *  Executive  assistant,'  they  call  me.  It  's 
a  factory,  you  know.  They  manufacture  coats  for 


240  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

women.  And  they  seem  to  think  I  have  good  judg- 
ment regarding  fabrics  and  styles.  Picture  me  a 
successful  business  woman!" 

"You  like  your  work?" 

"Immensely.  At  first  I  only  took  it  seriously  in 
order  to  forget  myself  but  now  I  take  it  seriously 
because  I  can't  help  myself.  It  has  a  hold  on  me. ' ' 

"Then  why,  Nora,  are  you  so  anxious  to  enter 
this  new  work  that  Ellis  offers  you  ? ' ' 

"Because  when  I  look  into  the  future  I  see 
blackness — nothing  else." 

The  waiter  solicitously  withdrew  the  earthen 
dishes  robbed  of  their  treasures  and  replaced  them 
with  squares  of  pastry  of  a  flaky  tenderness  and 
Benedictine,  shining  like  burnt  gold  in  its  tiny 
glasses. 

"How  selfish  I  Ve  been!"  cried  Nora.  "I  Ve 
drowned  you  in  my  sorrows.  Of  yourself  I  Ve 
asked  not  a  word.  Are  you  happy?" 

David's  face  told  her  more  than  he  would  per- 
mit himself  to  utter.  As  if  she  divined  his 
thoughts,  she  impulsively  leaned  forward  and 
placed  her  hand  upon  his. 

"It  's  not  quite  all  right  then?" 

"Not  quite." 

"You  'd  rather  not  tell  me?" 

"I  don't  think  it 's  quite  fair  to  Evelyn,  do 
you?" 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  241 

"No — perhaps  not." 

He  did  tell  her  of  his  daughter,  however,  and 
something  of  his  business  and  the  success  that  had 
come  to  him. 

Afterwards  he  asked,  "Have  you  come  to  any  de- 
cision about  going  West,  Nora  f ' ' 

"I  shall  write  Carl  he  may  come  East  and  see 
me.  Then — perhaps  I  may  go  back  with  him — on 
my  own  terms. ' ' 

A  sadness  fell  over  them  at  that  for  they  were 
both  thinking  that  if  Nora  went  back  with  Carl 
Ellis  it  would  definitely  end  their  meetings,  rare 
as  those  meetings  had  been.  But  neither  spoke  of 
their  thoughts,  and  presently  Nora  slipped  her 
arms  into  her  coat  and  David  called  for  the  waiter 
and  settled  his  bill  to  that  gentleman's  smiling 
satisfaction. 

Outside,  beneath  the  portico,  David  handed  Nora 
into  a  taxicab,  gave  the  chauffeur  his  directions, 
paid  him,  and  turned  to  say  good  night. 

Very  humbly  he  asked,  "May  I  see  you  soon 
again?" 

Nora  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden  pity.  She 
seemed  to  see  all  at  once  that  his  was  no  longer 
the  romantic  figure  of  youth ;  his  hair  had  thinned 
a  little,  the  temples  were  bared,  he  was  stouter, 
heavier,  as  if  his  body  had  lost  its  fire,  was  settling 
down  into  the  solidity  of  middle  age.  But  more 


242  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

than  in  the  physical  aspect  of  him,  she  was  struck 
by  the  pathos  in  his  voice.  It  was  no  longer  the 
young  voice  which  demands ;  it  was  the  older  voice 
which  entreats.  Meltingly,  she  leaned  forward 
and  gave  him  the  warmth  of  her  sympathy. 

"  Come  and  see  me  soon.    You  have  my  address. 
Good  night,  dear  friend. " 


CHAPTER  VII 

TWO  nights  later  David  traveled  by  trolley 
northeast  over  vast  stretches  of  Brooklyn, 
past  endless  low  houses  and  apartments,  little 
shops  set  in  rows  like  lighted  cells,  past  dark 
streets  with  lines  of  trees  running  down  their 
sides,  streets  which  at  half-past  eight  seemed  to 
have  closed  their  shutters  for  the  night  and  gone 
to  bed,  past  a  noisome  area  of  gas  tanks  and  ware- 
houses. 

Presently  he  reached  the  unknown  Scott  Street 
in  which  Nora  lived  and  he  alighted  from  the 
trolley.  Two  blocks  east,  ran  Nora's  instruc- 
tions. .  .  .  He  found  a  dwarfed  apartment  house, 
smug  in  its  newness,  lifting  its  spick-and-span 
brick  walls  beside  the  garden  of  an  old  frame 
house.  There  was  no  elevator,  but  he  was  greeted 
in  the  entrance  hall  by  a  card  bearing  Nora 's  name 
tucked  over  a  shining  brass  bell  which  he  pushed. 
The  door  clicked.  He  entered  and  ascended  to  the 
top  floor.  There  Nora  awaited  him  framed  within 
the  oblong  of  her  own  doorway. 

Her  glance  was  a  trifle  shy  as  she  took  his  hat 

243 


244  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

and  coat,  but  there  was  no  lack  of  warmth  in  her 
cordial,  "Hello,  David.  Doesn't  it  seem  funny 
and  nice  to  have  you  calling  on  me  in  my  own 
home?'7 

He  followed  her  into  a  small  sitting-room. 
There,  at  once,  he  saw  how  she  had  impressed  her 
personality  upon  the  impeccable  stolidity  of  the 
room,  how  she  had  fought  and  vanquished  its  un- 
compromising walls,  its  white  mantel  with  the 
pseudo  fireplace ;  its  cold  parterre  floor.  Flowers 
had  given  valiant  aid.  In  tall  vases  and  low  bowls 
they  stood  everywhere.  And  along  the  window 
sill  was  a  line  of  blooming  plants  and  spreading 
ferns.  Warm  rugs  softened  the  floor,  shaded 
lights  defied  the  walls,  and  curtains  of  a  gaudy 
Russian  design  successfully  outraged  the  builder's 
dream  of  a  perfect  gentility.  Best  of  all,  the  side 
window  gave  a  glimpse  of  the  garden  of  the  old 
house  with  the  black  branches  of  a  pine  tree  whis- 
pering in  the  wind,  so  close  to  the  window  that  it 
claimed  kinship  with  the  plants  within  the  room. 

"So  this  is  your  hiding  place,"  David  said. 
"It 's  quite  charming." 

They  settled  themselves  in  cushioned  wicker 
chairs  and  presently  Nora  came  smiling  with  a 
coffee  percolator  and  brandy,  an  electric  toaster, 
and  a  jar  of  anchovy  paste. 

"You  '11  have  to  help,  David,"  and  she  set  him 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  245 

to  work  buttering  toast  while  she  tested  the  coffee 
with  a  knowing  air  and  spread  anchovy  over  the 
toast  he  had  buttered.  All  the  while  the  perco- 
lator bubbled,  its  fat  little  body  gone  mad  with 
glee. 

As  if  by  agreement  neither  of  them  spoke  of  the 
things  which  lay  with  warm  fingers  next  their 
hearts.  These  topics  with  which  their  emotions 
were  inextricably  entangled  they  left  severely 
alone.  Yet  all  the  while  these  unspoken  things 
trembled  between  them.  Their  conversation  was 
like  one  held  over  a  telephone  in  fear  of  eavesdrop- 
pers. But  they  found  satisfaction  in  their  guarded 
words.  Freely  and  gladly  they  talked  of  books 
and  plays,  of  customs  and  conventions.  And  it 
was  wonderful  to  them  to  find  in  how  many  things 
they  agreed;  every  once  in  a  while  they  had  the 
comfortable  intimacy  of  feeling  they  walked  hand 
in  hand  through  many  questionings  and  perplexi- 
ties. 

While  Nora  told  of  the  plays  she  had  seen,  of 
the  meetings  she  had  attended — suffrage  meetings, 
meetings  where  the  wrongs  of  labor  had  found 
voice,  where  freedom  from  one  oppressor  or  an- 
other had  been  demanded, — David  gazed  at  her 
admiringly,  drinking  in  the  vivid  stream  of  her  in- 
terests, trying  to  match  them  with  his  own,  eager  to 
let  her  know  he  sympathized  and  understood.  At 


246  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

last  he  said  reproachfully, ' '  Here,  I  Ve  been  think- 
ing of  you  as  a  hermit,  Nora,  shut  off  from  the 
world,  and  all  the  while  you  Ve  been  gadding  end- 
lessly, seeing  and  hearing  and  thinking  a  thousand 
things  of  which  I  Ve  barely  known.  All  the  while 
your  life  has  been  so  much  richer  in  experience 
than  mine.  * ' 

"Oh,  I  run  over  to  New  York  whenever  there  's 
anything  special,"  she  confessed  gaily.  "The 
Irish  Players,  and  whenever  Mr.  Shaw  comes  to 
town,  and  once  in  a  while — don't  laugh,  David! — 
a  Casino  musical  comedy  or  a  Winter  Garden 
show.  I  Ve  heard  Mrs.  Pankhurst  speak,  and  I 
saw  the  Paterson  Strike  Pageant.  I  Ve  been 
down  on  the  East  Side  to  an  I.  W.  W.  meeting  and 
up  on  the  West  Side  to  many  a  fashionable  Suf- 
frage Tea,  and,  as  you  say,  I  Ve  given  myself  lots 
to  see  and  hear  and  think  about  .  .  .  and  it  's  all 
been  interesting — tremendously  interesting." 

So  they  chatted  while  the  last  vestige  of  toast, 
the  last  drop  of  coffee,  disappeared. 

"My  dear,  you  'd  better  go,"  said  Nora  at  half- 
past  ten. 

David  disobediently  lighted  another  cigarette. 
"I  'm  too  happy  to  go." 

Nora  shook  her  head  at  him.  "Then  I  shall 
make  believe,  as  we  used  to  long  ago.  You  may 
only  come  and  visit  the  princess  as  long  as  you 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  247 

obey  her  slightest  wish.  When  you  disobey,  the 
spell  is  ended — and  the  door  swings  closed  for- 
ever. ' ' 

1 '  Is  that  make-believe  ? ' ' 

" Not  altogether." 

"Very  well."    He  sighed  and  arose. 

But  he  had  a  question  to  ask  which  would  not  let 
him  go,  and  yet  which  he  found  painfully  difficult 
to  utter.  He  paced  the  room  once  or  twice,  ex- 
amining with  unseeing  eyes,  a  print  or  two.  Fi- 
nally he  swung  around: 

"Nora,  have  you  written  him!" 

Her  face  at  once  reflected  the  somber  tone  of  his. 
"Yes.  Last  night." 

* '  When  is  he  coming  f ' ' 

"I  don't  know." 

He  took  a  stride  forward.  "I  am  going  to  ask 
you  a  great  favor.  You  will  go  out  there,  I  know. 
Can't  I  see  you  often — very  often — in  the  time 
that's  left  us!" 

Her  hands  fell  passively  before  her.  She  sat 
deep  in  silence.  Presently  she  gave  him  a  long 
and  intense  scrutiny,  her  eyes  raised  to  his.  Then 
she  asked:  "Is  it  fair  to  your  wife?  Is  it  fair 
to  Carl?  Is  it  fair  to  us,  David?" 

"What  does  it  matter?"  There  was  despera- 
tion in  the  way  he  threw  that  question  at  her — 
the  desperation  of  a  man  who  is  asked  to  argue 


248  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

when  he  sees  the  raft  floating  away  from  him  and 
the  numbing  waters  creeping  over  him. 

"Is  it  wise,  David?" 

"Can't  we  be  done  with  wisdom  for  a  little?" 
he  cried  hotly.  "It  's  only  asking  for  a  tiny 
measure  of  folly,  Nora.  Of  course,  if  you  are 
afraid  ..." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet.    "I  'm  not  afraid." 

"Then  why—?" 

She  shook  her  head,  calm  again.  "Oh,  it  is 
folly,  David,  deepest  folly!"  Then,  after  another 
long  searching  look:  "Do  you  wish  it  very 
much!" 

"Oh,  very  much,  my  dear." 

She  threw  her  arms  wide.  "Very  well!  See 
me  every  day — every  hour  that  we  can  manage  to 
have  together.  As  if  I  were  condemned  to  so- 
briety all  the  rest  of  my  life,  let  me  drink  deep. 
I  Ve  thirsted  long  enough."  Impulsively  she 
slipped  her  hand  into  his.  "Does  that  satisfy 
you?" 

Ten  days  they  had  together  before  Carl  Ellis 
came  East  to  claim  his  Nora.  Ten  evenings  they 
had  dinner  together,  sat  next  to  each  other  at  the 
theater,  shoulder  warm  against  shoulder,  rode 
home  together  in  a  taxicab  over  the  wide  sweep  of 
the  bridge  with  the  arch  of  an  illimitable  velvet  sky 
stretching  overhead,  two  tiny  atoms  rushing  along 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  249 

with  the  swaying  of  the  car,  fingers  touching  fin- 
gers sometimes,  only  to  be  withdrawn  quickly,  fur- 
tively and  wretchedly  as  if  fire  had  touched  fire — 
two  tiny  beings  ecstatic  with  pain  and  glory  and  a 
happiness  that  was  half  despair,  beneath  a  vault 
of  heaven  so  lofty  and  remote  that  David  won- 
dered sometimes  whether  it  mattered  (so  small 
they  seemed),  what  emotions  possessed  them  and 
tore  at  them  or  whither  those  emotions  carried 
them. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  miracle  was  that  David's  life  apart  from 
Nora  went  on  as  smoothly  as  if  she  were  not 
a  passionate  intruder  upon  his  existence.  He 
found  rest  in  the  monotonous  round  of  his  every- 
day duties  and  habits.  They  were  like  the  hours 
of  sleep  in  contrast  with  hours  of  a  feverish  ac- 
tivity. The  ordinary  reality  of  his  days  became 
the  unreality.  He  moved  through  it  with  the  in- 
credible swiftness  with  which  one  travels  through 
the  blurred  episodes  of  a  dream.  Each  morning 
he  had  his  rolls  and  coffee  with  Evelyn,  kissed  her 
good-by,  journeyed  to  the  office  with  a  crowd  of 
other  shadows  engrossed  in  their  newspapers, 
read  letters  and  answered  them,  talked  over  plans 
with  John  Powell — a  John  Powell  who  scrutinized 
him  a  little  closely  these  days  with  anxious  eyes — 
saw  various  men,  printers,  representatives  of  ad- 
vertising agencies,  of  magazines,  of  newspapers. 
Then  after  the  routine  of  healing  commonplaces 
came  the  enchanted  nights  again  .  .  . 

But  one  morning,  the  unreality  stabbed  through 
the  reality,  claimed  its  place  there,  swept  aside  the 
curtains,  and  asserted  its  presence. 

250 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  251 

It  was  at  breakfast  with  Evelyn.  He  became 
aware  of  her  voice  demanding  his  attention. 

"You  '11  be  out  again  to-night?" 

"Yes." 

She  leaned  forward  so  that  her  bosom,  grown 
round  and  full  since  the  child's  birth,  rested  on 
the  table's  edge.  One  hand  as  if  guiding  her,  lay 
flat  on  the  cloth,  palm  down,  extended  toward  him. 

"It  's  every  night  now.    Is  it  a  woman?" 

He  hesitated,  perceived  that  it  was  useless  to 
answer  anything  but  "Yes." 

She  drew  herself  together  harshly,  shuddered, 
her  hands,  clutching,  covered  her  face.  Pres- 
ently she  withdrew  them  and  showed  dry  eyes  and 
drawn  lips.  "It  hurts,  David." 

For  a  moment,  confesson  ran  to  his  lips,  but  he 
found  he  could  no  more  talk  to  Evelyn  of  Nora 
than  he  could  talk  to  Nora  of  Evelyn.  His  jaws 
closed  over  his  expostulations.  But  this  much 
he  admitted  through  guarded  lips,  "It  will  soon 
be  over.  She  will  soon  be  gone  out  of  my  life  for- 
ever. ' ' 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"She  is  going  West  to  be  married.  Meanwhile 
she  permits  me  to  see  her — out  of  pity  for  me. ' ' 

She  weighed  his  words,  seeming  to  twist  and 
turn  them,  searching  for  the  truth  in  them  as  one 


252  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

sifts  a  handful  of  sand  in  search  of  a  lost  jewel. 
"Pity  for  you — oh!"  she  exclaimed  at  last,  and 
convulsively  she  choked  a  sob.  Again  she  leaned 
towards  him,  hand  extended,  her  eyes  bright  and 
hard  with  intuition.  "Is  it  that  one  whose  pic- 
ture I  burned  f ' ' 

"Yes." 

"You  Ve  always  cared  for  her!"  she  broke  out 
passionately.  "Always ! — more  than  you  've  ever 
cared  for  me ! " 

David  finished  his  coffee,  laid  down  his  napkin. 
Arising,  he  stood  awkwardly  indecisive.  He  was 
sorry  for  Evelyn.  Yet  it  was  so  difficult  to  show 
her  he  was  sorry.  For  the  one  thing  that  would 
comfort  her  he  could  not  offer — could  not  even 
pretend  to  offer.  Presently  he  forced  himself  to 
her  side.  Beneath  the  hand  he  placed  gently  on 
her  shoulder  he  felt  the  flesh  quiver,  but  she  did 
not  attempt  to  avoid  the  contact.  "I  'm  terribly 
sorry,  Evelyn,"  he  said. 

She  turned  to  him  beseechingly  and  her  eyes 
now  were  pools  of  trembling  tears.  "Why  have  I 
failed  so  utterly?  I  Ve  given  you  everything — 
everything!  I  did  not  know  how  to  give  more. 
Perhaps  if  you  had  taught  me — f " 

Her  question  was  unanswerable  and,  once  more, 
he  saw  the  walls  of  misunderstanding  between 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  253 

them.  He  withdrew  his  hand  and  walked  over  to 
the  window.  From  there  he  went  back  to  his  seat 
at  the  table  and  dropped  into  it. 

" Don't  you  think  you  would  be  happier  if  you 
were  free,  Evelyn?  If  you  could  make  your  life 
ever — repair  this  blundering?  You  can  be  free, 
if  you  wish,  you  know. ' ' 

She  gazed  at  him  bewildered  as  if  he  were  of- 
fering her  a  flask  containing  some  vital  fluid  which 
she  did  not  know  how  to  open. 

"You  alone  can  get  the  divorce, "  he  supple- 
mented. 

Her  face  was  bitter  with  disappointment.  She 
shook  her  head  slowly.  "0h,  that  sort  of  free- 
dom !  If  only  it  were  freedom ! ' ' 

She  sat  staring  dazedly  before  her,  her  eyes 
fixed,  as  if  death  had  first  terrified  her  and  then 
turned  her  cold  and  inanimate. 

So  he  left  her.  But  this  time  she  was  not  to  be 
dismissed  so  easily  from  his  thoughts. 


CHAPTEE  IX 

THE  taxicab  jolted  to  a  stop  before  the  door  of 
the  dwarfed  red  brick  apartment  house  and 
David  leaped  out  to  extend  a  hand  to  Nora. 

But  instead  of  saying  "good  night,"  and  leav- 
ing a  cool  hand  in  his  for  a  moment,  she  mur- 
mured, "Come  upstairs  a  minute,  will  you?  I 
want  to  tell  you  something." 

So  they  left  the  taxicab  mumbling  below  and  si- 
lently climbed  the  stairs  to  the  top  floor.  Nora, 
removing  her  coat  as  she  walked,  preceded  David 
into  the  sitting  room  and  switched  on  the  shaded 
lights,  while  David  followed,  every  nerve  alert 
with  questioning.  He  saw  that  her  eyes  were 
slightly  wider  than  usual  and  beneath  a  matter-of- 
fact  manner  which  was  obviously  manufactured, 
her  movements  were  restless  and  agitated. 

Presently,  after  setting  an  ornament  aright  on 
the  mantel  and  brushing  a  speck  of  dust  from  the 
table,  she  faced  him  with,  "He  's  coming  to-mor- 
row, David!" 

"Carl  Ellis?" 

"Yes." 

254 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  255 

He  said  nothing  but  sat  down  heavily  in  one  of 
the  wicker  chairs.  Something  in  his  face  hur- 
ried Nora  on  to  explain  more  gently,  "I  did  not 
want  to  tell  you  until  I  had  to.  I  was  trying  to 
tell  you  all  the  way  home  in  the  taxi  but  I  could  n't. 
I  did  n't  want  to  spoil  our  last  night  together  until 
its  very  end. ' ' 

"Our  last  night  together!"  he  echoed  hopelessly 
and  then  in  a  different  tone :  ' '  But  why  our  last 
night?  You  're  not  going  back  with  him  right 


"No,  but  I  shall  follow  him  in  a  few  days — and 
those  few  days  will  be  very  busy,  my  dear,  pack- 
ing, arranging  things  at  the  office ' ' — then  with  an 
impulsive  gesture —  "Oh,  what  's  the  use  of 
pretending,  David.  After  I  have  promised  Carl 
to  go  with  him,  I  shan't  dare  to  see  you  any 
more. ' ' 

He  leaned  forward,  his  voice  dark  and  thick 
with  emotion,  ' '  Not  dare  ?  Why  1 ' ' 

She  gave  him  no  answer  to  that.  Instead,  after 
an  eventful  pause  she  said  irrelevantly,  "There 
are  cigarettes  and  Scotch  on  the  table.  Help 
yourself  if  you  will. ' ' 

He  arose  and  poured  himself  a  little  whisky  and 
was  amazed  to  see  how  his  hand  trembled  as  the 
golden  fluid  spilled  into  the  glass.  ' '  Will  you  have 
some  ? "  he  asked. 


256  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

"No,  but  light  me  a  cigarette." 

He  drank  the  whisky  first  and  the  fiery  liquid 
steadied  him. 

She  took  the  cigarette  from  him  and,  after  a 
puff  or  two,  forgot  it,  let  it  burn  itself  into  a 
long  thin  silver  ash  that  dropped  unheeded  to  the 
floor. 

"I  should  like  you  to  meet  Carl,  David." 

He  shook  his  head,  "No!" 

"Why  not?" 

"Isn't  that  asking  a  little  too  much  of  me? 
Much  as  I  like  the  man  I  could  not  help  betraying 
how  much  I  hated  him. ' ' 

She  went  to  the  window  where  the  pine  tree 
spread  its  somber  branches  against  the  sky. 
When  she  turned  it  was  with  a  rebellious  air.  "Is 
it  asking  more  of  you  than  it  is  of  myself?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Oh,  let  's  be  done  with  hypocrisy  for  one  night, 
David.  Don't  you  know  I  love  you?" 

A  very  fever  of  denial  shook  him.  '  *  Love  me ! " 
he  cried.  "Me!  You  've  never  loved  me,  Nora. 
You  Ve  never  given  me  the  slightest  hope: — not 
since  we  were  cfiildren  together.  I  've  always 
loved  you — yes !"— his  eyes  swept  over  the  past — 
"Yes,  it  's  always  been  you — even  when  you  were 
but  a  memory  to  me.  But  now  you  come  with  this 
wild  tale  of  loving  me  when  we  have  each  finished 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  257 

patterning  our  lives  so  that  the  other  is  left  out  of 
the  weaving." 

She  laughed  and  laughing,  moved  from  the  win- 
dow and  settled  down  on  the  couch  with  a  vivid  red 
and  yellow  pillow  in  back  of  her  dark  head — that 
dear  head  over  whose  crown  the  lustrous  hair  was 
arranged  as  smoothly  as  a  bird's  wings.  She 
lifted  the  cigarette  to  her  lips,  found  it  wasted, 
crossed  quickly  over  to  the  table,  and  lighted  a 
fresh  one.  Calmly  she  sat  down  again,  utterly 
quiet  she  was  except  for  that  quick  movement  of 
her  hand  to  her  lips  with  the  smoke  a  gray  cloud 
slowly  spreading  over  her  head. 

Suddenly  she  dropped  the  cigarette  to  the  floor, 
stamped  a  foot  upon  it,  and  leaned  forward,  her 
hands  clasping  her  knee. 

"It  was  in  Chicago  that  I  first  realized  I  loved 
you.  It  was  there,  during  those  horrible  beastly 
days,  that  I  came  to  realize  it." 

"But  why  didn't  you  let  me  know?" 

"How  could  I  let  you  know?  I  was  a  prisoner. 
When  I  had  freed  myself  and  came  back  to  New 
York  it  was  you  I  wanted  to  see.  David,  I  told 
you  otherwise  but  to-night  we  shall  tell  the  truth 
to  each  other  and  nothing  else.  I  went  back  to 
Bay  Eidge  looking  for  you  but  could  not  find  a 
trace  of  you.  When  we  did  meet  by  accident  that 
day,  what  did  I  find?  Oh,  I  was  very  cautious.  I 


258  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

did  not  want  to  betray  myself  until  I  found  out 
how  it  was  with  you.  And  what  I  did  find  was  that 
you  were  to  be  married. ' ' 

"But  why  did  n't  you  give  me  a  chance?  Why 
did  n  't  you  give  me  an  inkling  of  how  you  felt  ?  "  he 
asked  with  a  gesture  of  appeal. 

"I  had  already  done  enough  harm  to  your  life, 
my  dear.  I  swore  to  myself  that  I  should  do  no 
more.  I  saw,  the  day  we  went  back  to  the  beach 
together — that  I  might  win  you  back  but  I  should 
have  despised  myself  for  doing  so.  You  were 
happy,  I  thought,  you  had  made  a  success  of  your 
life.  You  were  insuring  that  success  by  marriage. 
Should  I  interfere  ?  No,  it  was  too  contemptible  a 
thing,  David,  even  for  me  to  do." 

"But  why  are  you  telling  me  this  now?" 

"Why?  Because  now  you  are  placed  out  of  my 
reach  and  I  am  out  of  yours.  As  you  say  we  have 
each  finished  patterning  our  lives  with  the  other 
left  out  of  the  weaving.  But  I  Ve  told  you,  David, 
because  I  could  not  help  telling  you.  It  was  des- 
peration and  it  was  weakness  but  I  could  not  help 
it." 

She  still  sat  very  quiet,  hands  folded  together, 
and  suddenly  he  found  that  he  must  be  nearer 
to  her.  He  sprang  from  his  seat  and  sat  on  the 
couch  beside  her,  seizing  her  listless  hands  within 
his. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  259 

"Isn't  there  some  way  out  for  us,  Nora?"  he 
cried. 

She  smiled  at  him  bravely.     ' '  No. ' ' 

''If  I  should  get  a  divorce?" 

"Do  you  think  I  'd  let  you  do  that?  Do  you 
think  I  could  take  you  away  from  your  wife 
when  I  would  not  do  that  before  she  was  your 
wife?" 

* '  But  you  know  I  'm  not  happy — not  even  mak- 
ing her  happy. ' ' 

"It  is  n't  only  that,  David.  There  are  all  sorts 
of  other  things  to  reckon  with.  There  's  your 
business,  your  child,  your  friends — oh,  I  've 
learned  my  lesson  too  well,  David,  to  think  I  could 
rob  a  man  of  everything  and  get  much  happiness 
out  of  the  theft." 

He  released  her  hands.  "And  you  call  that 
love. ' ' 

"I  call  that  more  than  love — love  with  under- 
standing. ' ' 

He  arose  to  go  but  found  that  he  could  not  go. 
Invisible  forces  pulled  him  to  her.  Abruptly  the 
emotion  which  had  been  pent  up  within  him  all 
evening,  that  had  gathered  force  night  after  night 
for  days  past,  broke  its  barriers  and  overflowed. 
"Oh,  Nora,  I  feel  that  it  is  all  wrong!"  he  cried. 
"You  love  me  and  I  love  you — I  Ve  always  loved 
you.  Everything  else  is  shadow,  unreality. 


200  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Nothing  else  matters.    There  must  be  some  way 
out." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly.  Eising  she  came 
over  to  him,  very  tall  and  radiant,  very  slim.  She 
put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  leaning  for- 
ward, kissed  him.  But  there  was  no  rapture  in 
that  kiss,  only  the  sadness  of  renunciation.  ' '  Now 
go,  my  dear, ' '  she  said,  and  with  a  choking,  broken 
little  laugh,  ''your  taxicab  bill  will  be  enormous." 


CHAPTER  X 

THREE  days  later  he  had  a  note  from  her. 
' '  It  's  all  arranged, ' '  she  wrote  him.  ' '  I  fol- 
lowed your  plan  quite  closely.  He  is  going  back 
Wednesday  and  I  'm  to  follow  Sunday.  He  's  to 
let  me  take  up  the  work  and  he  's  not  to  speak  of 
marriage  for  three  months  at  least.  Poor  thing, 
he  was  so  heartbroken !  He  had  expected  to  rush 
me  off  my  feet,  carry  me  back  as  his  bride  with  a 
trip  to  Bermuda  for  our  honeymooning.  He  had 
actually  bought  the  tickets  for  the  trip,  flourished 
them  despairingly  before  me.  That  shows  the  as- 
surance of  the  man.  I  'm  not  a  bit  disappointed 
in  him,  David.  Memory  did  not  gild  him  in  the 
least.  He  is  fine.  Really  a  big  man.  You  should 
hear  him  talk  about  his  Trade  School.  One  has  to 
go  to  the  West  for  real  enthusiasm.  You  'd  like 
him,  David.  Honestly,  I  think  you  would." 

There  followed  a  brief  white  gap  in  the  note 
and  when  the  writing  began  again  it  was  less  firm 
and  clear.  David  had  to  puzzle  over  words. 
"You  mustn't  try  to  see  me.  This  is  hard  to 
write  but  I  don't  feel  that  I  could  stand  it.  Please 
don't  try — please  don't." 

261 


262  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

To  that  appeal  David  despatched  a  wild  and  in- 
coherent answer  and  two  days  later  he  had  an- 
other note.  ' '  I  Ve  just  emerged  from  a  breathless 
spell  of  packing  to  send  you  this  message.  With 
my  love,  David.  What  a  lot  of  things  one  gathers 
around  in  a  few  years  of  housekeeping.  I  've 
some  nice  things.  I  Ve  a  blue  Chinese  bowl  and  a 
Japanese  print  and  two  battered  candlesticks  I  'm 
going  to  leave  behind  for  you.  My  chief est  treas- 
ures, these.  They  have  a  little  corner  to  them- 
selves in  which  they  sit  so  proudly,  aloof  in  the 
mess  of  debris.  Every  time  I  pass  them  I  say  to 
them,  'You  are  for  David,  my  dear  David,  and 
£ou  are  always  and  forever  to  remind  him  of  his 
Nora.'  " 

That  letter  ended  up  with  a  blotched  postscript 
which  brought  the  tears  to  David's  eyes.  "I  Ve 
tried  to  keep  things  out  of  this  note  but  they 
would  n't  be  kept  out.  No,  you  must  not  see  me, 
David.  If  you  love  me,  don't  try  to  see  me.  I  'm 
fighting — and  this  sort  of  a  fight  it  is  much  better 
to  wage  alone.  It  is  hard,  my  dearest  one — oh,  it 
is  hard.  Damn  things  anyway,  damn  them  and 
damn  them,  and  damn  them !  Now,  I  do  feel  bet- 
ter." 

David,  counting  each  day  on  the  calendar  as  the 
condemned  man  in  his  cell  marks  off  each  day  from 
the  days  that  are  left  him,  realized  presently  that 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  263 

it  was  Saturday — Nora's  last  day  but  one  in  New 
York. 

That  afternoon,  however,  there  was  another  note 
— very  brief,  this  one.  "I  find  I  must  see  you  be- 
fore I  go.  I  am  taking  the  7 :55  train  to-morrow 
evening — Pennsylvania  Station.  I  shall  be  there 
a  half  hour  before  train  time.  Come  if  you  will. 
We  can't  be  very  emotional  in  the  Pennsylvania 
Station,  can  we  ? " 


CHAPTER  XI 

THIS,  then,  was  her  last  night!  To-morrow 
evening — at  7:55 — she  would  be  gone. 

David  found  himself  tossed  restlessly  around  his 
apartment.  He  sat  for  awhile  at  the  other  side  of 
the  library  table  from  Evelyn,  who  was  sticking 
a  needle  in  and  out  of  white  material  stretched  taut 
upon  a  round  wooden  frame.  Her  placidity  irri- 
tated him.  He  threw  aside  the  evening  paper, 
picked  up  a  magazine,  ran  over  its  stupid  articles 
on  the  reformation  of  a  crook,  digging  the  Panama 
Canal,  on  aeronautics,  its  fluffy  tales  of  young  men 
and  women  living  in  an  impossibly  simple  and 
happy  world. 

He  walked  back  to  the  dark  dining-room  and 
stood  looking  out  of  the  window  into  a  gray  and 
shadowy  courtyard.  There  he  surprised  himself 
estimating  what  money  he  had  of  his  own  to  be 
called  upon  in  case  of  emergency  and  discovering 
himself  doing  this,  he  laughed  grimly  at  the  for- 
lorn hopes  which  prompted  it. 

The  apartment  became  too  small  for  him  and  he 
let  himself  out  the  front  door,  conscious  of 

264 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  265 

Evelyn's  eyes  following  him,  placid  no  longer  but 
dumb  with  an  appealing  entreaty  and  questioning. 

Outside  the  large  freedom  of  the  night  welcomed 
him.  .  .  .  His  feet  moving  swiftly,  irrevocably, 
one  after  the  other,  carried  him  to  the  trolley  line 
— the  same  trolley  line  over  Which  one  night,  not 
long  ago,  he  had  traversed  endless  areas  of  the 
City.  Uncontrollable  forces  had  their  way  with 
him;  when  a  car  came  along  he  swung  himself 
upon  it.  "What  am  I  about!"  he  asked  himself, 
in  a  stupor  that  was  helplessness. 

Little  stores  like  lighted  cells,  empty  streets, 
tree-guarded,  close-shuttered,  huge  round  gas 
tanks  spreading  their  sickly  sweet  poisonous  odors 
— he  was  swept  swiftly  by  all  these.  At  the  re- 
membered corner  he  jumped  off. 

The  old  garden  next  to  the  spick-and-span  apart- 
ment house  had  arrayed  itself  in  some  tentative 
garments  of  spring.  The  familiar  perfume  of 
seringa  bush  and  strawberry  shrubs  came  to  him 
through  the  paneled  fence.  He  reached  the  door 
of  the  house  with  poignant  memories  of  childhood 
aroused  by  these  homely  perfumes  crowding  upon 
him.  Looking  up,  he  saw  a  light  shining  forth 
from  Nora's  sitting-room  windows  .  .  .  and  as 
he  looked,  as  if  she  had  leaned  out  and  held  up  an 
arresting  hand,  the  impetus  which  had  carried  him 
thus  far,  deserted  him.  He  sat  down  as  one  over- 


266  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

come  with  weariness  upon  the  stone  steps.  And  a 
picture  came  to  him  of  that  room  upstairs  with  its 
flowers  in  round  red  pots  along  the  window  sills, 
the  curtains  of  Russian  design,  and  the  wicker 
chairs  in  which  they  had  sat  opposite  each  other. 
He  could  see  Nora  moving  around,  preparing  the 
feast  they  had  shared  the  first  night  he  had  visited 
her.  How  deftly  she  moved,  how  smoothly  with  a 
tiny  welcoming  smile  hovering  around  her  lips. 
Then  suddenly  his  vision  of  her  changed ;  she  be- 
came a  trembling,  frightened  Nora,  and  he  remem- 
bered her  words,  "If  you  love  me,  don't  try  to  see 
me." 

Into  the  cup  of  his  hands,  his  head  fell,  and  his 
legs  quivered  with  weakness  as  if  he  had  run 
breathlessly  for  miles.  A  passerby  eyed  him  curi- 
ously, steering  her  feet  into  a  semicircle  to  avoid 
him.  A  little  boy,  running  along  sucking  at  a 
candy  on  a  thin  stick,  came  to  a  sudden  halt  before 
him  but  at  a  little  distance,  and  gazed  at  him  with 
hope  and  expectancy.  But  as  David  did  not  move 
he  hopped  away,  disappointed,  turning  occasion- 
ally to  peer  back  at  him.  Presently  David  lifted 
himself  and  stumbled  away.  The  lights  of  a 
saloon  shining  garishly  on  a  far  corner  beckoned 
him.  He  entered  through  a  swinging  door  and 
drank  whisky — two,  three,  four  glasses — he  did 
not  know  how  many. 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  267 

Making  for  the  door  again,  the  bartender  ex- 
tended a  sturdy  grip  and  clutched  him  with,  "You 
ain't  paid  yet,  Mister." 

David  threw  down  a  bill  and  was  allowed  to  de- 
part, while  a  small  knot  of  men  standing  before  the 
bar  laughed  raucously. 

Again  the  trolley,  a  wheeled  thing  of  many  lights 
crowded  with  blurred  black  masses  which  might  be 
people ;  again  the  interminable  rows  of  little  houses 
and  shops  smothered  now  in  darkness.  He  ar- 
rived at  last  before  the  marble  hallway  of  the  house 
where  he  lived  and  without  pause,  went  on.  The 
water  called  him — he  could  hear  the  whistles  of 
boats,  the  fog  horns,  the  shrill  river  voices. 

Down  a  steep  hill  he  half  fell,  half  ran,  past  a 
nodding  watchman,  out  upon  the  wide  and  uneven 
expanse  of  a  dock.  At  last  the  waters  lay  before 
him,  singing,  soothing,  black  and  mysterious, 
clutching  to  their  bosom  a  thousand  lights,  yellow, 
red,  green,  like  a  woman  jealous  of  her  jewels. 

Slowly  a  consciousness  of  where  he  was  came  to 
him,  a  consciousness  of  the  stillness  and  darkness 
of  the  unfathomable  night.  And  it  was  good !  It 
was  solace!  It  crept  over  him,  over  his  burning 
brows  and  fevered  body,  cooling  him,  like  the  pres- 
sure of  a  firm,  beloved  hand.  His  brain  cleared. 
And  he  found  that  he  could  think  clearly  and  co- 
herently. 


268  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

Better  that  things  were  as  they  were,  he  told 
himself.  Better  that  they  were  as  they  had  to  be. 
Better  that  Nora  should  go  away  with  her  West- 
erner than  take  the  meager,  hidden,  hypocritical 
life  of  love  which  was  all  that  he  could  offer  her. 
And  he  thought  of  himself  and  Nora  abroad  in  the 
land,  fleeing  from  discovery,  endlessly  pretending, 
forced  constantly  into  all  sorts  of  small  and  mean 
and  shameful  dissemblings.  But  into  the  calm 
reasoning  of  his  thoughts  broke  a  small  fury  of 
anger.  "Damn  him!"  he  cried.  "Damn  him! 
What  right  has  he  to  take  her  away  from  me? 
She  's  mine.  I  loved  her  first.  I  've  loved  her 
best.  I  Ve  always  loved  her." 

That  fury  shook  him  and  passed. 

After  a  while  he  began  to  wonder  about  himself. 
Why  was  he  condemned  to  suffer?  Why  was  all 
that  was  dearest  to  him  invariably  snatched  away 
from  him?  Never  had  he  known  complete  realiza- 
tion of  any  ambition.  Impersonally  he  wondered. 
Like  a  long  script  of  manuscript  his  life  unrolled 
itself  before  him. 

Why  had  he  failed?  Why  was  he  created  to 
dream  and  yet  never  to  realize  a  dream?  The 
awakening  found  him  clutching  dead  sea  fruit — al« 
ways.  He  had  had  so  many  dreams,  so  many  sorts 
of  dreams.  Never  a  one  came  true.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  in  the  very  beginning  he  had  not  been 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  269 

true  to  his  first  dream,  his  greatest  one,  the  one  in 
which  he  had  aimed  to  be  of  service  to  his  fellow- 
men.  Never  had  he  been  of  service  to  any  one. 
Not  one!  Ineffectual,  he  was.  Terribly  ineffec- 
tual! 

Yet  he  had  never  been  selfish.  He  had  meant 
no  one  harm.  Yet  he  had  done  them  harm — gross 
harm.  Poor  little  uncomprehending  Evelyn — he 
had  done  her  harm.  She  had  not  understood,  had 
not  seen  things  as  he  saw  them ;  therefore  he  dis- 
missed her.  The  others  before  Evelyn.  All  of 
them  in  varying  degrees  had  suffered  in  their  love 
for  him.  And  to  Nora,  wvhom  he  loved  best  of  all, 
if  he  had  had  his  way  he  would  have  done  the 
greatest  harm.  He  would  have  carried  Ijer  away 
from  the  respect  of  men — the  respect  which  after 
so  many  cruel  years  she  had  just  regained. 

Then  he  thought  of  his  accomplishments,  of  his 
material  success.  After  he  had  achieved  it,  he 
had  found  it  dross.  What  was  this  spell  that  had 
been  put  upon  him — that  sent  him  from  one  woman 
to  another,  from  one  ambition  to  another,  and  that 
never  left  him  satisfied  for  long? 

Unlike  that  king  of  old  whose  touch  turned 
everything  to  gold,  his  touch  turned  everything  to 
brass — to  brass  or,  more  accurately,  to  ashes — 
ashes  that  passed  away,  blown  away  as  the  night 


270  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

wind  blows  the  reflected  stars  from  off  the  face  of 
the  waters.  ... 

He  had  given  too  little  of  himself,  that  was  it. 
He  had  asked  for  everything  and  given  noth- 
ing. .  .  . 

Presently  all  thought  left  him  and  he  stood  like 
one  of  the  creaking  posts,  there  by  the  waters, 
until  the  first  light  of  morning  crept  over  them  and 
turned  them  gray. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  next  evening  David  waited  beneath  the 
lofty  ceiling  of  the  Pennsylvania  Station. 
He  had  arrived  there  long  before  the  time  set  by 
Nora,  and  every  second  minute  he  had  compared 
his  watch  with  the  great  iron  hands  of  the  clock 
hung  over  the  north  stairway.  He  had  wandered 
around,  but  never  very  far  nor  very  long  from  the 
meeting  place.  He  had  exhausted  the  possibili- 
ties of  the  shop  windows  within  the  main  entrance 
— the  haberdasher's  with  its  gaily  colored  scarfs, 
its  caps  and  collars  and  shirts,  the  toy  shop  with 
its  dolls  and  furry  bears  and  a  thing  of  steel  that 
lifted  sand  to  a  tower  and  then  dropped  it;  the 
book  shop  with  its  array  of  jacketed  novels. 

Long  since  he  had  exhausted  these,  and  now 
stood  impatient  and  restless  beside  the  doorway 
which  opened  into  the  vast  room  from  which  one 
descended  iron  stairways  to  reach  the  trains. 

When  he  had  fully  decided  that  Nora  had 
changed  her  mind,  had  taken  an  earlier  train  to  es- 
cape him  or — wildly  impracticable  this! — had 
found  it  impossible  to  carry  out  her  plans,  he  saw 

271 


272  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

her  crossing  the  wide  expanse  of  floor  toward  him. 
He  ran  towards  her,  waved  away  an  insistent  por- 
ter, and  seized  her  bag  himself. 

She  was  smiling  bravely.  She  reminded  him  of 
a  bird  eager  for  flight,  and  he  could  not  help  but 
feel  resentful  of  her  self-possession  and  courage. 
"My  taxi  broke  down,"  she  said.  "How  much 
time  have  we?" 

He  did  not  have  to  consult  any  clock.  "Only 
fifteen  minutes,"  he  answered  ruefully. 

They  walked  over  to  the  gate  where  her  train 
waited.  Impatiently  people  rushed  by  them,  while 
they  found,  gazing  sadly  into  each  other's  eyes, 
that  they  had  no  words.  A  sense  of  calamity,  of 
the  irrevocable,  was  upon  them.  From  a  distance 
they  could  hear  a  guard,  with  powerful  distinct- 
ness, announce  the  stations  at  which  Nora's  train 
halted. 

As  if  that  urged  him  on,  David  fell  into  a  furious 
pleading.  Gone  now  were  all  his  great  resolu- 
tions of  the  night  before.  "Don't  go,  Nora. 
Whatever  is  wrong  or  right,  this  is  wrong.  You 
don't  love  him.  You  love  me.  I  have  more  than 
three  thousand  dollars.  We  can  go  away  together 
— anywhere.  We  can  make  a  start  somewhere 
else." 

"Like  the  people  in  books,"  she  put  in. 

"No,  like  real  people — like  you  and  me — real 


THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY  273 

flesh  and  blood.  Nora,  this  will  break  me.  I  'm 
through  with  living  if  you  go— 

"You  don't  mean — ?"  she  broke  in  with  dis- 
tended eyes. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  killing  myself.  Worse  than 
that —  A  living  death ;  my  life  's  been  all  wrong 
for  lack  of  you.  I  need  you.  I  always  have. 
That  is  what  I  wanted.  That  is  what  has  been 
lacking," — and  as  if  he  had  by  accident  stumbled 
upon  the  truth  he  repeated,  "Yes,  that  is  what  has 
been  lacking." 

She  shook  her  head,  tears  in  her  eyes,  her  lips 
pressed  closely  together.  "I  must  go,"  she  said. 

She  passed  through  the  gate,  for  the  guard  had 
called  an  imperious  summons.  He  would  have 
barred  David's  way  but  David  pressed  a  bill  into 
his  hand  and  forced  himself  past.  He  was  dumb 
now.  His  pleading  had  been  ineffectual — inef- 
fectual again!  He  was  like  an  actor  who  had 
spoken  his  lines  because  they  were  given  to  him 
to  speak  but  who  must  now  be  silent  until  the  end 
of  the  comedy. 

Together  they  reached  the  long  platform  against 
which  the  train  lay  with  level  steps. 

"Good-by,  my  dear,"  said  Nora,  and  she  took 
her  bag  from  him  and  kissed  him. 

But  he  held  her  fast;  with  all  his  strength,  one 


274  THE  KEYS  OF  THE  CITY 

hand  gripping  each  of  her  arms,  he  locked  her  to 
him. 

1 '  David ! ' '  she  cried.     * '  This  is  madness ! ' ' 

"Yes,  it  is  madness,"  he  echoed.  "But  it  has 
to  be." 

A  commotion  burst  around  them,  guards  called 
to  them;  one  guard  shook  David's  shoulder.  The 
train  began  to  move  slowly,  it  gained  headway; 
like  a  serpent  with  jeweled  sides  it  slid  away. 
Nora  had  ceased  to  struggle;  a  dead  weight  she 
had  fallen  against  David  so  that  he  had  to  sup- 
port her. 

The  two  of  them,  atoms  in  that  vast  place,  stood 
clinging  together.  The  train  had  vanished.  A 
guard  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  was  still  shouting 
at  them ;  a  negro  porter  stood  near  by,  grinning  at 
them  with  white  teeth. 

David  loosened  his  grasp  and  held  Nora  so  that 
he  could  see  into  her  face.  She  moved  back  a  step 
so  that  his  hands  fell  from  lier  arms.  Wearily  she 
passed  a  hand  across  her  eyes  and  gazed  at  the 
black  hole  which  had  devoured  the  train.  Then 
with  a  sob,  she  moved  back  to  David 's  side  and  ran 
her  arm  through  his. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  now, 
David?"  she  asked. 

THE   END 


•       M  IIM'  '•'  •  ""I  Hill     I 

A  A      000007641    4 


